
Class 

Book 

Copyright Is 10 . 



CQEOUGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE VICTORY LIFE 



THE VICTORY LIFE 



BY 

JOHN T. FARIS, D.D. 

AUTHOR OF THE BOOK OF ANSWERED PRAYER, THE BOOK 
OF JOY, THE CHRISTIAN ACCORDING TO PAUL, ETC. 



THIS BOOK WAS AWARDED THE SECOND PRIZE 
IN THE GEORGE WOOD PREMIUM COMPETITION 




AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

PARK AVENUE AND FORTIETH STREET 

NEW YORK 









COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



°^ >5 191$ 



©CI.A530P50 



To C. C. F. 

WHOSE LIFE ALWAYS SPEAKS PEACE 



FOREWORD 

A RECENT book of biography gives a telling 
contrast between one who "sought under 
the clouds for the last voiceless inspiration," 
and another who "looked oftener at the brown 
earth than at the blue sky." Always the peaceful 
face of the one who looked aloft was an inspiration 
to those who knew him, but few cared to stay long 
in the company of the other, whose spirits were ever 
in hearty accord with his drooping shoulders. 

The writer has endeavored to present a plain 
record of some of those who have learned how easy 
it is to forget the brown earth while they look at 
the blue sky; who, by the simple means at the 
command of every one, not only win victory for 
themselves but bring brightness into the lives of 
others; who are proving daily that man is able to 
walk with head erect, eyes facing the light, and heart 
turned toward God. 

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the authors 
and publishers of books named in the Bibliography 
for inspiration and quotations. 



CONTENTS 

IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 

I. Peace Amid Confusion 17 

II. The Fruitage of Unrest 21 

III. Calm for the Troubled Mind 24 

IV. With Jesus on Life's Sea 26 

V. Our Unseen Defenders 28 

VI. Real Manhood 31 

THROUGH CONFLICT TO VICTORY 

VII. Victory through Temptations 35 

VIII. "Thy Will Be Done" 37 

IX. As Usual 41 

X. Making Way for Peace 43 

XI. Unrest and Victory 45 

XII. Victory through Acquiescence 47 

THE VICTORY OF CONTENTMENT 

XIII. Transfigured Lives 53 

XIV. When Circumstances are Peculiar 55 

XV. Why Pray? 57 

XVI. Away with Sadness! 59 

XVII. In a Corner 63 

THE WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 

XVIII. Finding Life's True Center 69 

XIX. Duty under Difficulties 72 

XX. The First Thing 74 

XXI. Doing One's Best ; 77 

XXII. Giving Satisfaction to Another 80 

XXIII. The One Thing Lacking 83 

XXIV. Burden-bearing with Christ 87 

THE WAY OF SERVICE 

XXV. A Wonderful Partnership 93 

XXVI. He Ironed out the Wrinkles 96 

XXVII. Victory through Unselfishness 99 

XXVIII. Victory through Testimony 103 

XXIX. The Unfailing Cure 106 

XXX. Like Him 108 

11 



12 CONTENTS 

THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS 

XXXI. An Acid Test H3 

XXXII. The Beauty of Forgiveness 116 

XXXIII. "As Ye Forgive" Il8 

XXXIV. Peace through Forgiveness 120 

XXXV. Knowing the Love of God 123 

XXXVI. Andrew Jackson's Road to Victory. . . 125 

XXXVII. The Victory of Love 130 

GOING TO THE SOURCE 

XXXVIII. The Road to God i 35 

XXXIX. Studying the Message 138 

XL. A Soldier's Victory 141 

XLI. The Road to Victory 144 

XLII. How Could He Do It? 147 

XLIII. When God Leads 149 

XLIV. "Take My Hand!" 151 

XLV. Purity and Victory 154 

LOOKING THROUGH GOD'S EYES 

XLVI. A Change of Ambition 159 

XLVII. The Heroism of Three 161 

XLVIII. Doing One's Best 164 

XLIX. His Road to God 168 

L. The Point of View 171 

LI. Ambition Was not Enough 174 

GUIDED IN THE WAY 

LII. The Giver of Victory 179 

LIII. "Was it Worth While?" 186 

LIV. Victory in Weakness 190 

LV. Victory through Unselfish Service 194 

LVI. "To Learn, to Teach, to Serve" 199 

LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 

LVII. Victory through Remembrance 205 

LVIII. Into the Light 207 

LIX. Fear Conquered 210 

LX. Crossing the River 213 

LXI. A Poet's Road to Victory 216 



"Of wounds and sore defeat 
I made my battle stay. 
Winged sandals for my feet 
I wove of my delay. 

"Of weariness and fear 
I made a shouting spear. 

Of loss and doubt and dread 
And swift oncoming doom 

I made a helmet for my head, 
And a waving plume. 

"From the shutting mists of death, 
From the failure of the breath, 
I made a battle horn, to blow 
Across the vales of overthrow." 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 



PER ARDUA AD ASTRA 

Lift me, God, above myself, 
Above my highest spheres, 
Above the thralling things of sense 
To clearer atmospheres. 

Lift me above the little things — 
My poor sufficiencies, 
My perverse will, my lack of zeal, 
My inefficiencies — 

Above the earth-born need that gropes, 
With foolish hankerings, 
About earth's cumbered lower slopes 
For earthly garnerings. 



Lift me, God, above myself. 
That, in Thy time and day, 
I somewhat grace Thy fosterings 
And climb Thy loftier Way. 

John Oxenham, in "The Fiery Cross' 3 



The Victory J^ife 

i 

PEACE AMID CONFUSION 

SOME have the idea that peace is the absence of 
turmoil. Yet when the dictionary makers say 
that peace is "a state of quiet or tranquillity," 
they are careful to add that this tranquillity comes 
not merely through exemption from agitating passions, 
but as a result of the subjection of these pas- 
sions. In other words, it is possible to be quiet and 
undisturbed in the midst of the things that seem most 
unsettling and distressing. The artist whose alle- 
gorical picture of peace represented a mother bird on 
the nest within a few feet of the thundering water- 
fall had a truer conception than his fellow artist 
who pictured for the same purpose the glassy surface 
of a lake at sunset. Ruskin was gloriously right 
when he said, "People are always expecting peace in 
heaven, but you know that whatever peace they 
get there will be ready-made." 

What is perhaps the most striking picture of peace 
amid turmoil is to be read in the forty-sixth Psalm. 
This Psalm not only tells of the possibility of peace 
and of the secret of peace, but it gives the tremendous 
measure of that peace: 

" God is our refuge and strength, 
A very present help in trouble. 

Therefore will we not fear, though the earth do change, 
And though the mountains be shaken into the heart of 

the seas; 
Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, 
Though the mountains tremble with the swelling thereof" 

17 



l8 THE VICTORY LIFE 

From the battlefield in France comes the story 
of a soldier who was unnerved in the hour before 
the time appointed for him to go over the parapet 
of his trench, in the face of the enemy. "The guns 
rent the air into shreds, and the earth into shards. 
The world was convulsed with crumbling earth and 
splintered shell." He was in "a blue funk," to use 
his own words. Yet, "through the roar as of a 
world passing away, two or three slept peacefully." 
How could they sleep? What was their secret? 

The soldier pondered. Then he found the secret; 
their peace amid tumult became his. How? Let 
him tell the story. 

"I prayed. I tried hard to visualize God. I did 
not ask for safety or for my life, for that struck me 
as unfair. One must play the game. When death 
is in the air, one must not pray for oneself in that 
way. But I prayed for what I needed most. I 
prayed for courage. I looked at the men, for it 
gripped my soul that I might fail them. I had only 
one word rising in the stillness of the soul, 'Courage, 
Lord, give me courage/ 

"And a wonderful thing happened," the soldier 
continued. "I felt all at once a sense of an Unseen 
Power, in whose hand I was. There rang in my ears 
words which I once knew, but had forgotten: 'My 
grace is sufficient for thee/ Like the snapping of a 
string that opens a door I was set free — as a bird 
from the snare of the fowler. Suddenly the guns 
ceased; there was a silence as of death, and we went 
over the parapet. But it wasn't the man of an hour 
ago, but a new and different man that went over the 
parapet in my person." 

This soldier told of another experience on a day 
when turmoil was at its height. Fearing that he 
might be overpowered by his surroundings, he forced 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 19 

. himself to smile. He says: "And in that act there 
arose within me an unconscious appeal to the Highest 
. . . that the Power over all should back me up 
in the effort that made the lips smile. Instantly 
something happened. Shells still burst all around, 
with smoke and an incredible roar everywhere. 
The crack, crack of machine guns, until the air was 
full of bullets; the earth blasted and thrown high 
into the air; the moan of the stricken — that's 
what girt me round. But these things were no 
longer real. As a dreamer awakes from a ghastly 
nightmare, and, while the horror is still upon him, is 
suddenly comforted by the knowledge that it was 
only a dream, so, all at once, the danger and the 
horror of that trench became unreal. I was the 
reality. I could not be destroyed. I was filled with 
a great comfort — I was raised above destruction." 

The writer of these lines was penning this incident 
when a missionary from Tarsus told him of a woman 
who had a like experience. From villages all about 
her she had heard tidings of families broken up, of 
men killed, and women and children torn from their 
homes and sent into exile by the cruel Turks. Her 
own husband was taken from her. She wondered 
how she was to bear her trials. The day came when 
she was summoned from her little home. Placing 
her children on her donkey, she trudged away from 
desolation to what must certainly be worse. But 
first she prayed to Him who was her refuge and 
strength, and as she went she sang the songs she had 
been taught at the mission. There came then to 
her face a look of wondrous peace that made her 
rough guards marvel. It was the peace that God 
alone can give. 

Prayer — there is the way to victory. Prayer leads 
us to the secret place of the Most High where is heard 



20 THE VICTORY LIFE 

the majestic word, "Be still, and know that I am 
God/' Prayer makes God so real that there comes 
to be new meaning in the assurance, " Jehovah of 
hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." 
Prayer enables men and women to keep their hold 
on Christ in times of bewilderment and tumult. 
Prayer is the appointed means of communication 
with Him who laid the foundations of the earth, who 
stretched out the heavens like a curtain; it gives the 
calm assurance that the Hebrew poet had when he 
sang of God's handiwork and of God Himself: 

" They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure; 
Tea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; 
As a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall 

be changed; 
But Thou art the same, 
And Thy years shall have no end" 

Therefore pray — in time of trouble that peace 
may come; in time of quiet that peace may continue; 
in time of temptation that victory may be given; 
at all times that God may be real and that compan- 
ionship with Him may take away fear of the terror 
by night, of the arrow that flieth by day, of the 
pestilence that walketh in darkness, and of the 
destruction that wasteth at noonday. Pray — for 
God will keep in perfect peace that one whose mind 
is stayed on Him. Pray — for the eternal God is 
the refuge of His people, and underneath are the 
Everlasting Arms. 



II 

THE FRUITAGE OF UNREST 

EVERY ONE knows days, perhaps months, and 
even years, when peace and quiet seem abso- 
lutely out of the question; when those who 
tell of the possibility of enjoying these blessings 
seem to speak in riddles, and w 7 hen the assurance 
that some day the life will be rich and noble because 
of what is so destructive of serenity sounds like a 
jest. Yet countless thousands testify that these 
things are so. 

As a young man Charles Kingsley had a bitter 
experience of unrest. "The conflict between faith 
and unbelief and between hope and fear was so 
fierce and bitter that he . . . nearly gave up all 
for lost," Mrs. Kingsley wrote, in her story of her 
gifted husband's life. "But through all God kept 
him for a work he little dreamed of." His difficulties 
came by reason of his attempts to explain to himself 
the riddle of life and this world. At last he found 
that "no explanation was so complete as that which 
one had learnt at one's mother's knee." So he came 
to feel that the only possible rest for his troubled 
soul was to become a preacher of purity and holiness. 

Trials were not all put behind Kim when he 
became a Christian. The parents of Fanny Grenfell 
opposed his marriage to her. But he had learned 
to trust God, so he w T as not cast down. "I can 
understand people's losing by trusting too little to 
God," he wrote, "but I cannot understand any 

21 



22 THE VICTORY LIFE 

one's losing by trusting too much to Him." Then, 
most unexpectedly, the barriers were removed. 
"From that moment a river of blessings heaped one 
on the other, as if the merciful God were turned 
prodigal in His undeserved love," was his own 
statement of the fact. "Therefore take heart, my 
friend," he pleaded, "only humble yourself utterly; 
be still, and say, 'My Father, thy will be done/ 
And why shouldn't it be with you as it was with 
me?" 

Years later he wrote of this period of testing: 
"What an awful weapon prayer is! Mark n: 24 
saved me from madness in my twelve months' 
sorrows, and it is so simple and so wide — wide as 
eternity, simple as light, true as God Himself." 

A present-day author has told of an experience 
that taught him the same lesson. In the midst of a 
busy year a serious illness came to him, and one 
result was that he walked on crutches for six months. 
He wondered how anything good could come out of 
those trying weeks; but the memory of the lesson 
learned years before from a godly father and mother 
saved him. He not only found peace for himself, 
but sought to turn his lesson to advantage for some- 
body else. "I got to thinking how much more sad 
the lot of a lame boy must be when he had not yet 
formed a philosophy of life and was at a period when 
life and its activities are mostly legs," was his state- 
ment of the problem he tried to solve. 

One result of his thinking was the preparation of 
the story of a lame boy which attracted wide atten- 
tion very soon after it was published. The book 
told of a boy whose early life was saddened by the 
thought of his lameness; of a mother who could 
enter fully into the thoughts of her handicapped 
son; of a father who encouraged the boy to fight 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 23 

his own battles, and so supplemented the mother's 
tenderness; of brothers who did not mean to hurt 
the feelings of the lame lad by calling him "Limpy"; 
and who, when they stopped to think, would not 
use the nickname; of the rare acquaintances who 
were tactful enough to treat him as if he were not 
different from other boys. 

But there came a day when he learned something 
better than ignoring his handicap. He turned a 
liability into an asset when, after years of shrinking 
from his nickname, he realized that a nickname is a 
help to good fellowship. 

The boy took another step when his self-pity 
gave place to pity for one who was less fortunate 
than himself. When Limpy met an old soldier 
with a peg-leg his affection went out to the man, 
and from that moment he had a stouter heart. He 
marveled to hear the unfortunate man laugh. He 
was amazed that Jonas belittled his infirmity. 
"You can have just as much fun 'with one leg as 
with two, and you're even better off, for if you break 
your wooden leg it doesn't hurt." 

The author succeeded in his purpose of cheering 
the afflicted even better than he had hoped, for the 
book was soon put in raised type for those most 
afflicted people, the blind, and he began to receive 
from some of his new readers the most wonderfully 
cheerful and philosophic letters. 

Is there ever a plausible reason for being cast 
down; for while "all chastening seemeth for the 
present to be not joyous but grievous; yet after- 
ward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto them that 
have been exercised thereby," and the "Victory that 
overcomes the world" is found in misfortune and 
difficulty when the eye is turned to Jesus, the author 
and finisher of our faith. 



Ill 

CALM FOR THE TROUBLED MIND 

AGAIN and again the question has been asked 
by anxious Christians, "How shall we defend 
Christ against the attacks of His enemies ?" 
A sensible answer was given by one who said that 
he had found that the bare narrative of the life of 
Christ was a mightier weapon of defense than any 
book written about Him. He called special atten- 
tion to a feature of His life often passed by in the 
succession of surprises accompanying His sayings 
and works from first to last. One of these instances 
was when Christ was with His disciples, asleep in a 
boat on the sea of Galilee. Suddenly one of the 
fierce storms so common in Galilee swept down 
upon the frail boat. Terrified, the disciples all 
turned to the sleeper, "Save, Lord; we perish!" 

Christ's response was immediate. Pausing only 
to chide the disciples for their little faith, He rebuked 
the winds and sea. Instantly there was a great 
calm. The Lord had spoken. Nature obeyed Him. 
And the men marveled, asking one another in wonder: 
"What manner of man is this, that even the winds 
and the sea obey Him?" 

A traveler who had learned victory over worry 
once wrote: "It is a pitiable thing to see vigorous 
men and women who have inherited godlike qualities 
and bear the impress of divinity, wearing anxious 
faces and filled with all sorts of fear and uncertainty; 
worrying about yesterday, to-day, to-morrow — 
everything imaginable. In entering New York by 

24 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 2$ 

train every morning, I notice business men with 
hard, tense faces, leaning forward when the train 
approaches the station, as if they could hasten its 
progress and save time. Anxiety is in every move- 
ment, a hurried nervousness in their manner; and 
their hard, drawn countenances — all these are 
indications of an abnormal life." 

And yet Christ is just as able to calm the troubled 
mind as He was so long ago to quiet the waves of 
the sea. There is magic in the soothing voice of 
Christ. Care vanishes in thin air as they who lean 
on Him hear that voice in loving invitation, "Come 
unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest." 



IV 

WITH JESUS ON LIFE'S SEA 

SOMETIMES troubles crowd so thick and fast 
that the calmest become unnerved and act as 
if the foundations of life and faith had been 
removed. 

A time like this came to the disciples during a 
night when Jesus remained on the shore in prayer 
while they attempted to cross the Galilean lake. 
Soon Jesus realized that the disciples were in trouble; 
they were in the midst of the sea and, the wind being 
contrary, the waves were dashing against the boat. 
Perhaps Jesus could see the boat, for it was the 
time of full moon, and there were probably breaks 
in the clouds. But even if He could not see the 
danger, He would know of it, for He always knows, 
and instantly, every anxiety, every fear, every 
heart-throb of His people. 

Perhaps at that very moment the men were 
thinking, "If only Jesus were here, as He was that 
other time when the waves were boisterous!" But 
Jesus was there. In the early morning hours He 
came to them, walking on the water. 

The disciples were afraid at first, for they thought 
they saw a ghost; but Jesus reassured them. In- 
stantly Peter, recognizing Him, asked and obtained 
leave to go to Him on the water. He stepped from 
the boat, and so long as he kept his eyes on Jesus 
all was well, but when he began to observe 
swelling waves and howling wind, he began to sink. 
In answer to his cry, Jesus reached out His hand 

26 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 27 

and helped him. Then He gently rebuked His 
timorous disciple. Why could Peter not believe 
that He who had told him to walk on the water 
was able to keep him from danger? After such 
proofs, the disciples could not but worship Him as 
the Son of God. 

Sometimes one is led -to think, as he reads this 
record, what a splendid thing it would be to be able 
to walk with Christ on the water as Peter did. This 
power is not given to-day because it is not needed. 
God does not waste His gifts. He gives his people 
the power they need for their everyday life. Moody 
taught this truth to an inquirer, who asked him: 
"Have you grace enough to be burned at the stake? 
Do you not wish that you had?" "No, sir, for I 
do not need it. What I need just now is grace to 
live in Milwaukee three days and hold a convention." 

Because power to walk with God on this prosaic 
earth is needed, the power is given. "We may 
have God's presence in our shops and offices as well 
as in the church," one has put it. "As we walk the 
streets we may hear the noiseless steps of the Unseen 
Guide in the doing of daily work; even in our times 
of recreation God may be with us, and we may 
walk with God. I do not mean that daily life is to 
be an ecstasy. We need not be always conversing 
with our Friend. We are to do our work, and take 
our play. But we are always to feel Him near, so 
that when we have aught to say, we may say it; 
when we need aught, we may ask for it; when we 
desire, we may converse with Him." 

But because men are so slow to take advantage 
of their opportunity to live thus in companionship 
with the Lord, there is darkness- and trouble in the 
world. 



OUR UNSEEN DEFENDERS 

YES'M, she's pretty well, Mother is," said the 
old man, pausing with his foot on the wagon- 
wheel to answer an inquiry concerning his 
wife; "pretty well, if only 'twa'nt for worryin' 
about the children. 'Lizabeth's up to Conway this 
season, and mother's all the time afraid she'll be 
took sick away from home. Samuel's got a good 
place at Tanfield, and he's doin' well, too; but his 
boardin' place is across the river. Sometimes he 
goes by skiff, and mother, she can't get over the 
feelin' that he's likely to be drowned. The two 
younger ones is home yet, but she says she's anxious 
about the time John'll be wantin' to strike out for 
himself, and she's always been afraid we'd never 
raise Car'line. No'm, there's nothin' special the 
matter with any of 'em now, and the truck has done 
fine this year. Mother hain't had a touch of her 
rheumatism all summer, and she'd be pretty well 
off if 'twasn't for worryin'. Christian ? Bless you, 
yes, this forty year! She ain't afraid but what the 
Lord'll take care of her and all the rest of the world; 
but seems like she ain't got faith yet to believe He's 
to be trusted with the children." 

That was the way a writer put the message of a 
Bible story in which a man learned how foolish he 
was to be afraid while God's messengers were guard- 
ing him. 

This is the story: The king of Syria was making 
excursions with his army into the territory of the 

28 



IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL 29 

king of Israel. Several times he was unsuccessful 
because, evidently, some one had carried word to 
the king of Israel about his plans. Of course the 
king of Syria was very angry. He accused his serv- 
ants of betraying his plans. The servants told 
him, however, that the man to blame was God's 
prophet, Elisha. In a rage the king sent armed 
men to take the prophet. 

The force came near the home of Elisha early in 
the morning. Elisha's servant caught sight of 
them and was filled with terror. "Alas, my master! 
how shall we do?" Elisha answered, "Fear not, for 
they that be with us are more than they that be 
with them." Then Elisha prayed that the young 
man might understand. The prayer was answered. 
The servant's eyes were opened, and he saw the 
mountain full of horses and chariots round about 
them. No earthly host could break that phalanx! 

The king of Syria had made his plans with great 
craft and secrecy, but one omission spoiled all. 
He left God out of account. He did not realize 
that no word spoken in his council chamber could 
be hidden from God. When men work with God 
they are invincible. But when they work without 
Him their work deserves to fail. 

Let it be remembered that God promises to bring 
those who trust Him safely through the dangers 
that threaten them. Sometimes the deliverance is 
given them by warding off the danger entirely; 
again God permits them to go through the peril, 
but He sees that they are not harmed by it. He 
has His own way of delivering, and that way is the 
best way. Yet always He delivers; that is the 
point to be remembered. He delivered the king of 
Israel by sending him a warning. He once delivered 
a home missionary who was lost in a blizzard by 



30 THE VICTORY LIFE 

showing the missionary's horse how to find the 
nearest shelter. He has delivered you times without 
number. 

Echoing the cry of the prophet's frightened 
servant, many have asked in terror, "What shall I 
do?" The answer to the question is very simple. 
The first thing to do is to tell God our trouble. 
The second thing is to do what God says. 

It is certain that there is a heavenly host standing 
guard over every one of God's children. Does any 
one feel that he has not seen that host? Then 
there is need for him to offer a prayer like Elisha's — 
"Lord, open my eyes that I may see!" By faith 
he can behold that heavenly host of which Psalm 
91: II tells, "For He will give his angels charge over 
thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." That is not a 
figure of speech. God does exactly what He says 
He will do. 



VI 

REAL MANHOOD 

BRITISH soldiers in France wondered at the 
ability of their commander to be so simple, 
so gentle, and yet so valorous; so quiet and 
calm, and at the same time so sturdy and depend- 
able. But they learned the reason. "At dawn he 
sat at his tent door, his Bible in his hands. He had 
no fear; he knew that underneath were the Ever- 
lasting Arms." And as the men looked on him they 
realized that — to quote the words of the soldier's 
biographer — they were seeing "manhood raised to 
its highest power, and valor transfigured by faith." 
They were glad that they were guided by one in 
whom was "a touch of loftiness, a touch of serenity, 
a touch of the divine," because he "lived in the still 
air of the peace that passeth understanding." 

How the touch of serenity can come to a man in 
the midst of the things that try his soul is seen in 
the story of James Stewart of Lovedale, the African 
missionary. No matter what his difficulties, he 
gained comfort in reading the Bible and in prayer. 
Once he prayed: \ 

"Make me patient under calumny, whether it be 
at home or abroad. Give me patience to labor at 
details as much as if they were the highest work. I 
Let me not get disappointed with the opposition; 
that may be thrown in my way. If it shall prove 
not to be Thy call to labor here, help me to take 
the lesson Thou givest for my good. Help me to be 
content with Thy work in me if not by me, and out 

31 



32 THE VICTORY LIFE 

of all vexation and trial it has brought only let my 
heart be brought nearer Thee/' 

James Robertson, the Canadian home missionary 
pioneer, agreed that self-poise comes through keeping 
in touch with God. Once when he was tempted 
to leave his chosen work by an offer of a more promi- 
nent position and larger salary, he said, "The time 
for self is gone for us. It would be a fearful thing 
to think of in our future course that we had regarded 
self and selfish considerations and not our Master's 
work." 

It is not easy thus to bid self take a back seat. 
Yet those whose lives count most heavily, who 
have the greatest satisfaction in life, learn to do this 
through their companionship with Him who taught 
that real peace and rest come through service. 
Francis Coillard, in writing of William Waddell, 
the lowly artisan missionary to the Zambesi, said, 
"We have had missionary helpers of that stamp, 
but they are rare. It is because it needs a more 
than ordinary measure of grace cheerfully to occupy 
this humble place in the mission field, and to glorify 
God in it." 

There is just one way to possess the "manhood 
raised to its highest power" and the "valor trans- 
figured by faith," as shown in the lives of men like 
these: the way of prayer, the way of Bible reading, 
the way of friendship with Christ. 



THROUGH CONFLICT TO VICTORY 



'The clouds hang heavy 'round my way, 

I cannot see; 
But through the darkness I believe 

God leadeth me. 
'Tis sweet to keep my hand in his 

While all is dim; 
To close my weary, aching eyes, 

And follow Him. 
Through many a thorny path He leads 

My tired feet; 
Through many a path of tears I go, 

But it is sweet 
To know that He is close to me, 

My God, my Guide. 
He leadeth me, and so I walk 

Quite satisfied. 
To my blind eyes He may reveal 

No light at all; 
ut while I lean on His strong arm 

I cannot fall." 



VII 

VICTORY THROUGH TEMPTATIONS 

WHAT a wonderful thing life would be if 
there were no temptations/' was the vain 
expression of a young man's longing. "As 
it is," he went on, "each day brings with it so many 
solicitations to evil that I am in hot water every 
hour. Oh, for one day of freedom!" 

The time came when the speaker learned that 
temptation need not be an evil that brings unrest, 
but rather a stimulus that points the way to serenity. 
There are just two possible attitudes to be taken 
before temptation — acquiescence, which has been 
said to be the only "essence" that Satan likes, and 
conflict. Acquiescence may bring a sort of delusive 
peace for the time; it is conflict alone that leads 
to victory. 

A character in a recent novel presented the atti- 
tude of acquiescence toward temptation. He recog- 
nized the fact of temptation, but he had an easy and 
terrible philosophy in which he rested. "If I com- 
mit a sin, Fll not whine about it, and if God says 
to me at the last day, 'Did you commit this sin or 
that sin?" Fll answer him to his face, and say, 'Yes, 
God, I did, and if you had been a man you would 
have done the same yourself/" As if God had not 
become man in the person of Christ, and as a man 
had endured temptation! 

This blasphemous speech would not be worth 
quoting were it not that it startles one into a new 
realization of a wonderful truth: it is only through 
the attitude of conflict in temptation that serenity 
can come. God knows all about a man's temptations, 

35 



36 THE VICTORY LIFE 

and just how hard it is for him to meet them, for 
God did become man in the person of Jesus Christ 
and as a man He was "tempted in all points like 
as we are, yet without sin." For this reason He is 
"able to succor all that are tempted." 

So He is the way to victory in the midst of tempta- 
tions. No one needs to fight temptation by himself. 
A strong Ally, who has never been defeated, keeps 
Himself at call. No need, then, to be disturbed 
because temptations come thick and fast; the more 
pressing the solicitations to evil, the nearer He is 
to the tempted one. So let there be absolute con- 
fidence in facing the temptation, for He is round 
about His own. There are no gaps in the lines of 
defense when they are in the hands of the Master. 
There are no joints in the harness through which 
the fiery darts of evil can reach those whom He 
defends. Satan is compelled to own this. When 
he wanted to tempt Job, he said to God, "Hast thou 
not made a hedge about him on every side?" Thus 
he stated a truth that, while disquieting him, brings 
peace to the beleaguered Christian. 

But victory through temptations comes only to 
those who are thoroughly in earnest in their purpose 
to co-operate with Christ. Long ago Bishop South 
called attention to the one cure for half-hearted 
co-operation that is fatal to victorious overcoming: 
"Let a man be but as much in earnest in praying 
against the temptation as the Tempter is in pressing 
it, and he need not proceed by a surer measure." 

And he will no longer waste time in longing for 
freedom from temptation; he will be ready to agree 
with the message from Browning: 

Why comes temptation, but for man to meet 
And master and make crouch beneath his feet. 
And so be pedestaled in triumph? 



VIII 
"THY WILL BE DONE" 

WHEN Anthony Comstock, whose crusade 
against vice made him a national figure, 
was just beginning his work, he made an 
intense effort to persuade Congress to pass a federal 
statute under which he could work against the men 
who were depraving young men and women. In 
spite of every effort it seemed that his bill was 
doomed to fail. He prayed for success. He felt 
that he must have his way. As he explained to 
Charles G. Trumbull, who has written Mr. Com- 
stock's life story, he was unwilling to make his 
prayer in that spirit of submission which would 
enable him to say from the heart, "Thy will be 
done." He would not pray for a willing acceptance 
of God's will if it were to cross his own. Yet he 
knew he ought to make that prayer. He fought for 
hours. Then he broke down, and the surrender 
came. He dropped to his knees, asked God's 
forgiveness for his sins, and told the Lord Jesus all 
his troubles. 

"I prayed that if my bill might not pass, I might 
go back to New York submissive to God's will, 
feeling that it was for the best. I asked for forgive- 
ness and asked that my bill might pass, if possible, 
but over and above all that the will of God be done. 

"What peace! What joy! What delight! Oh, 
how can I describe the burden which rolled off? 
The summer's day was never more peaceful than 
my heart was when Jesus said, * Peace, be still/ 

37 



38 THE VICTORY LIFE 

and sent his peace. I felt then it was for the best, 
and I was content to have it just as God willed/' 

Mr. Trumbull in telling the story said, "He had 
won a greater victory now than that of forcing a 
bill through the United States Congress." 

He had learned the lesson of submission that Jesus 
taught by his own experience the night of his be- 
trayal by Judas. After a farewell talk to His 
disciples, He went to the Garden of Gethsemane. 
It was His supreme hour; and He wished to be 
alone with the Father for communion and prayer. 
He took Peter and James and John with Him, and 
asked them to watch and pray. He must have 
looked back on the three years of His ministry, 
recalling their pain and sorrow and suffering. He 
would realize that all this was but a very small 
thing to what was now before Him. He had been 
looking forward to His death, glorying in the thought 
of it, sustained through years of hardship by the love 
He bore to mankind, but now, as the time for the 
completion of His sacrifice drew near, He began to 
be sorrowful and sore troubled. 

His love had found expression; but Israel had 
laughed at His love. Disciples he had received, 
men who professed their love for Him; but they 
were sleeping, instead of watching and praying with 
Him as He had asked. And that very night one of 
the three, Peter, who had been loudest in his pro- 
testations of love, would deny Him with an oath. 
He was to be alone in his sorrow. The Father's 
presence would be withdrawn. This was the great 
bitterness of His suffering — the Father would turn 
away from Him, for the sins of the world were to 
rest on Jesus. 

Already He was in the shadow of the Cross where 
He was to bear in His body the sins of mankind. 



CONFLICT TO VICTORY 39 

It was because of this that God would turn away — 
the wrath of God was due to man for his sins. Who 
should bear the sins? Man himself? Then God's 
face would be turned away from man forever. Or 
would Christ bear them? From Him God would 
hide His face for but a little while; Christ would 
suffer this that man might look forever into the face 
of God. 

It was the sinlessness of Christ which enabled 
Him to carry the sins of others, and it was this sin- 
lessness which caused Him such agony in bearing 
sin. His nature loathed sin, abhorred it, yet He 
was to bear the weight alone. Is it strange that 
His soul was exceeding sorrowful ? Is it strange that 
in His agony He cried out, "My Father, if it be 
possible, let this cup pass from Me"? 

He was not faltering, not regretting the sacrifice 
He was to make. His prayer was simply this: 
"All things are possible with Thee, Father. If it is 
possible that there is another way for the salvation 
of men, let this cup pass from Me." But at the 
very time of the petition He did not insist upon 
His request, but submitted the question for decision 
to the Father, "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as 
Thou wilt." 

The answer came. The Father helped Him as 
He returned to prayer. The agony was not over, 
but the petition was forgotten in the knowledge 
that the cup must be taken. "My Father, if this 
cannot pass away, except I drink it, Thy will be 
done." 

It was only a little while until Jesus resolutely 
turned away from the garden, without the slightest 
sign of shrinking or fear, to yield Himself to the 
malignant priests. He had endured the agony of 
Gethsemane and was ready to put to His lips the 



40 THE VICTORY LIFE 

cup of bitter anguish. This agony is the scorn of 
those who mock at Jesus, because, they say, He 
faltered in His sacrifice; but it is the glory of those 
who love their Saviour and are learning to under- 
stand Him. 

And so, at Christ's feet we learn the glad lesson 
of the joy of submitting our will to God's will — 
the lesson that D. L. Moody showed he had learned, 
when he said, "People are afraid of the will of 
God. I would rather have God's will done than my 
own. Why? I can't see an hour into the future. 
I don't know what is ahead of me. God knows all. 
The past, present and future are all alike to Him. 
He loves me more than I love myself, and He wills 
my highest and eternal interest." 

Since God knows if it is best to give us what we 
ask for, let us make known our wishes to him, and 
then leave the matter with Him, content to let 
Him give us what He wishes. It is always safe 
to make Christ's prayer, "Thy will be done." 



IX 
AS USUAL 

ONE who had been accustomed to trade at a 
certain store thought with regret that he 
would be compelled to go elsewhere for a 
time, because the street before this store was torn 
up and because the builders were erecting a new 
front for the store. He thought, "There will be so 
much confusion that the clerks cannot be expected 
to do their work/' But, to his surprise, he saw a 
sign on the scaffolding before the building, " Business 
going on as usual." 

After the great Chicago fire a merchant whose 
wholesale business had been burned out set up a 
dry goods box on the same site with a large placard 
above — "Business going on as usual at the old 
stand." 

"Business going as as usual" is a good slogan for 
the merchant. Why not for the Christian as well? 
Shall the children of this world be permitted to be 
wiser than the children of light? Why should a 
Christian say, in time of unusual stress, "I am all 
upset; surely it cannot be expected of me that I 
shall continue my service as usual!" Or why 
should it be said, "How can that man go ahead 
exactly as if he had not been so bereaved? Isn't 
he afraid that he will be thought callous?" 

A famous musician left his home in England to 
spend a week cheering the soldiers in France by song. 
One day he paused to visit the grave of his own 
soldier son, his only son. A friend, who wrote of 
the trip, said, "He knelt down on the grave and 
clutched it while his body shook with grief. On 

41 



42 ' THE VICTORY LIFE 

the way down the hill I suggested gently that the 
throes of such an hour made further song that day 
impossible. But, turning to me with a flash in his 
eye, he said, 'I must be brave; my boy is watching, 
and all the other boys are waiting. I will sing to 
them this afternoon, though my heart break.'" 

Robert E. Speer has told, in "The Stuff of Man- 
hood," of an English schoolboy who was the best 
athlete in the school. His presence in a critical 
game was felt to be absolutely essential. But 
when he was called home by the death of his blind 
father, the boy's companions felt that on his return 
he would not feel like entering the game; they knew 
how like chums father and son had been. "The 
day before the game was to be played the boy came 
back to school, and, to the amazement of all, let it 
be known that he intended to play. The next day 
he took his place and played as he had never played 
in his life before. When at last the game was over 
and the school had won its triumph, one of the 
masters came to the boy and expressed to him the 
delighted surprise of the school at what he had done 
and their amazement both that he had played at 
all and at the way he had played. 'Why,' said the 
boy, 'didn't you understand? I wouldn't have 
missed it for anything. That was the first game my 
father ever saw me play.'" 

"Business as usual" is a necessary slogan for the 
merchant, although everything seems to combine 
to make business impossible; and "Trust as usual" 
is a necessary motto for the Christian, in the days 
when darkness seeks to settle over the soul, for, in 
the words of the hymn, 

" When all around my soul gives way. 
He then is all my hope and stay" 



X 
MAKING WAY FOR PEACE 

DOUBT and peace cannot dwell together. 
Doubt always displaces peace, and the 
conquest of doubt is the sure signal for the 
coming of peace into the life. So long as a man 
questions God's love and refuses to believe His 
assurances, there will be unrest and confusion in 
that life; but just as soon as the promises of God are 
received at their face value the path to peace becomes 
straight and plain. 

Some one has written of a man who struggled 
with anxiety and care. He had been told that 
Christ could satisfy his anxious heart, but he could 
not believe what he had been told. He wished to 
have Christ as his Companion and Friend, but when- 
ever he tried to get in touch with Him the feeling 
that the Master was unreal took possession of him. 
He was in despair until the hour when, while he was 
thinking of the invitation of Christ, he seemed to 
hear the words, "Act as if I were, and you shall 
know that I am/' He did just that, and of course 
doubt took its departure. When he took Christ 
at his word, that instant peace came to him. 

To one who believed in taking Christ at His word 
there came a time of sore distress. With it also 
came a moment of doubt; but when he thought of 
the words of Christ, "Peace I leave with you, my 
peace I give unto you; let not your heart be 
troubled," he forgot his fears and lifted up his heart 
in thanksgiving for the peace that he knew would 
come in that moment. And it did come. 

43 



44 THE VICTORY LIFE 

Ruskin tells how a period was put to his unrest. 
"One day last week I began thinking over my past 
life, and what fruit I have had, and the joy of it 
which has passed away, and of the hard work of it, 
and I felt nothing but discomfort, for I saw that I 
had been always working for myself in one way or 
another. Then I thought of my investigations of 
the Bible, and found no comfort in that, either. 
This was about two o'clock in the morning. So I 
considered that I had neither pleasure in looking to 
my past life, nor any hope, such as would be my 
comfort on a sick bed, of a future one. So, after 
thinking, I resolved that at any rate I would act as 
if the Bible were true — that if it were not I would 
be, at all events, no worse off than I was before — 
that I should believe in Christ and take him for my 
Master in whatever I did; that to disbelieve the 
Bible was quite as difficult as to believe it; and when 
I had done this I fell asleep. When I rose in the 
morning, though I was still unwell, I felt a peace 
and spirit in me that I had never known before." 

Faith has been defined as " trusting God's reason 
where my reason cannot reach." The Christian 
who trusts God's reason makes an end to the doubt 
that displaces peace. 



XI 

UNREST AND VICTORY 

WHAT is it all about, anyhow, this life of 
ours? Certainly to be forever weary and 
worried, to be endlessly soiled with thank- 
less labor and to grow old before our time soured 
and disappointed, is not the whole destiny of man." 

This was the question of a man who had known 
much of what the world calls success. But he was 
not satisfied. "Is this life worth living?" he asked 
at one time. Again he spoke of "the inexorable 
trend of things" and of the "futility of the life and 
the pains of the average man and woman of both 
city and country." He owned that nature was 
beautiful for all men. "But how much of consola- 
tion does the worn and weary find in the beauty of 
cloud and tree or in the splendor of the sunset? 
Grace of flower does not feed or clothe the body, 
and when the toiler is badly clothed and badly 
fed, bird-song and leaf-shine cannot bring content." 

Fortunately, the world is full of people whose 
views are quite different. Some of those who seem 
the most unfortunate are among the bravest in 
their attitude to life. Through misfortune they 
have groped their way to lasting satisfaction, not 
through fatalistic philosophy and blind submission, 
but through a consciousness of the loving presence 
of Him who came to bring His own peace. 

The story of Clarence Hawkes, the author of 
"Hitting the Dark Trail," tells of such a character. 
The sub-title of this volume, "Starlight through 
Thirty Years of Night," gives a true picture of the 
optimism of the blind author who lost his sight by 

45 



46 THE VICTORY LIFE 

a hunting accident when he was a boy of fourteen. 
He asks the reader not to think of him as crippled 
and groping, but to regard him as a brother and a 
friend, who would not be considered different if he 
were met on the street. 

His conquest did not come in a moment. Once 
he told briefly this story of the victory: 

"Even the little waves that wildly dance 

Against the cliffy will crumble it to sand; 
And so with ceaseless toil the slightest hand 
May wear away the walls of circumstance" 

"If in the rubbing process the walls of circum- 
stance have worn me somewhat, yet I have worn 
my way through them to light and happiness," he 
said once, in explanation of the quatrain. 

At first his only thought was to get something 
out of his darkness for himself. Later, however, 
he began to think of others. What could he add 
to the stock of human happiness? It was then 
that the meaning of his blindness was made plain 
to him. "If I had always retained my sight," he 
wrote, "I would have gone on for the rest of my 
life seeing things, learning of nature from reading 
her great book, without even stopping to think 
what the things I saw meant." So he began to 
write his nature books, which have brought joy to 
tens of thousands. 

Thank God for those who have conquered un- 
toward circumstances and so have taught a lesson 
of patience, courage and hope; whose lives are 
filled with gladness because they are on familiar 
terms with Him who not only would not "break 
the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax," but 
who would crown with beauty and glory the lives 
of the afflicted. 



XII 

VICTORY THROUGH ACQUIESCENCE 

WHAT manner of man this was that, sick 
unto death over forty years ago, could 
wield from a little laboratory in the wilder- 
ness an influence which is materialized in nearly 
five hundred sanitariums in the western hemisphere 
for the treatment of consumption by fresh air, rest 
and a proper philosophy; what manner of personality 
was that which from the prostrate depths of an 
invalid's chair could revolutionize the sanitation of 
business offices, where gold seemed life's only worth- 
while, and of homes where ignorance shrank from 
oure air and sunshine — this can be explained only 
)y an intimate personal revelation of the remarkable 
luman being that was Edward Livingston Trudeau." 

Two books tell the wonderful story of Dr. Trudeau 
— "The Beloved Physician/' by his friend, Stephen 
Chalmers, from which the opening paragraph of 
this chapter is quoted, and "An Autobiography," 
the simply told story which Dr. Trudeau completed 
just before the illness which ended his life. 

There was need for strength of spirit, for Dr. 
Trudeau had just begun to practice when tuber- 
culosis developed. At first physicians did not 
recognize the symptoms, and they were rather 
careless as to the treatment. But the day came 
when all felt that the young physician must die 
before long. 

"I felt stunned," he wrote in his autobiography, 
"It seemed to me that the world had suddenly 

47 



48 THE VICTORY LIFE 

grown dark. The sun was shining, it is true, and 
the street was filled with the rush and noise of 
traffic, but to me the world had lost every vestige of 
brightness. I had consumption, that most fatal of 
diseases! ... It meant death, and I had never 
thought of death before ! Was I ready to die ? . . . 
And my rose-colored dreams of achievement and 
professional success in New York! They were all 
shattered now, and in their place only exile and the 
inevitable end remained!" 

The world knows how he fought depression and 
out of his own tribulation brought new hope to 
others. In the face of the advice of those who were 
looked on as experts, he went to the Adirondacks 
in the winter, when the thermometer was far below 
zero, not because he had any idea that the climate 
would be beneficial in any way, but influenced only 
by his love for the great forest and the wild life. 
"If I had but a short time to live," he said, "I 
yearned for the surroundings that appealed to me, 
and it seemed to meet a longing I had for rest and 
the peace of the great wilderness." "He might 
as well go," one physician thought; "he can't last 
long anywhere." So thought the men in the Adiron- 
dack wilderness when he reached Paul Surette's, 
"weighin* no more'n a lambkin," in the words of 
the guide who carried him to his room. But the 
life in the open, which was shared by his faithful 
wife, proved the tonic he needed. He was never 
strong; all his life his lungs were weak. Yet he 
lived longer than any of the strong people who 
welcomed him pityingly to the Adirondacks. 

Then he began to think of other sufferers from 
consumption to whom the Adirondack air would 
give life. So he built a little cottage for the treat- 
ment of two poor girls from the city. Slowly but 



CONFLICT TO VICTORY 49 

steadily he developed a vast sanitarium in which 
thousands have been treated, and a research labora- 
tory which has enabled physicians elsewhere to pass 
on to victims of the disease knowledge acquired by 
Dr. Trudeau. The buildings and endowment of 
the sanitarium represent an investment of a million 
dollars — most of it gathered by Dr. Trudeau him- 
self, or by friends whom he inspired. 

He was a marvel of grit and persistence. When 
he was unable to remain out of bed, he directed his 
work from his couch, "with one poor portion of a 
single lung laboring for breath. " "There's little 
sport in an easy game," expressed his way of looking 
at life and its duties and privileges. 

He was a thoroughgoing optimist. "As I look 
back on my medical life," he once said, "the one 
thing that stands out as having been most helpful 
to me, and which has enabled me more than anything 
else to accomplish whatever I have been able to do, 
seems to me to have been that I was ever possessed 
of a fund of optimism; indeed, at times optimism 
was absolutely the only resource I had left." He de- 
lighted to give to his patients the advice, "Open the 
window, go to bed, and keep your nerve." "O ye 
of little faith," was a favorite text with him, for his 
optimism was grounded on the rock of earnest trust 
in God. 

He was a man of faith — faith in himself, in his 
friends, in God. It was faith that enabled him to 
make acquiescence a keynote of his life. Mr. 
Chalmers says, "The word ( acquiescence ' was 
taken from a sentence which he had once written 
to me, 'The conquest of Fate came not by rebellious 
struggle, but by acquiescence/" He knew how 
to bear sorrow, and the knowledge enabled him to 
help others. When his own daughter was seized 



50 THE VICTORY LIFE 

with quick consumption he redoubled his efforts for 
others who could be helped, and so he found peace. 
When a wealthy patient let him know how full of 
sorrow her life was, he taught her how to serve, and 
through helpfulness she found the way to victory 
and peace. 

Success came to him because he had "an un- 
limited fund of enthusiasm and perseverance." He 
had learned the possibility of the "victory of the 
spirit over the body; the victories that demand 
acquiescence in worldly failure; the victory of the 
Nazarene, which ever speaks its first message to the 
ages." 

Familiar with struggle which had taught him 
"that the Spirit of God may dwell in man," he came 
to the days when he was able to say, "I have indeed 
had a full life, full of the joy of play and the struggle 
and zest of work, and overwhelmingly full of human 
love — a wealth of love which has endured, and is 
still making life precious to me every hour; full of 
the aspiration and ceaseless stirrings of the spirit 
for expression in worship, ever groping to know 
God, and ever sustained through long periods of 
gloom by glimpses of the Heavenly Vision. Cer- 
tainly all this is to live, and I have had a full life." 



THE VICTORY OF CONTENTMENT 



BE QUIET 

Soul, dost thou fear 

For to-day or to-morrow? 

'Tis the part of a fool 

To go seeking sorrow. 

Of thine own doing 

Thou canst not contrive them, 

*Tis He that shall give them; 

Thou may' st not outlive them. 

So why cloud to-day 

With fear of the sorrow 

That may or may not 

Come to-morrow? 

— John Oxenham, in "All's Well." 



XIII 
TRANSFIGURED LIVES 

A PHILADELPHIA business man, on his 
return from a trip to Kentucky, told an 
incident about an English fellow-traveler 
and made his comment on it: 

"My English friend was very tired. He had 
slept little the night before. The heat had been 
intense, sapping strength. So when the train 
swiftly moving brought coolness, he fixed himself 
comfortably in his seat and went to sleep. In a 
little while the conductor, passing through and 
collecting tickets, aroused him. He woke, and as 
he woke, he looked up at the conductor with a rare 
smile. A friend and myself, watching the scene, 
said, 'What a test of our friend's character! He 
must have a sunny soul, when, tired and worn out, 
rudely aroused, to waken with a smile/ 

"Our friend was a Christian beyond the ordinary. 
The test he met was a subtle one, but he stood it 
well. It was the result of gracious living, of control 
of temper oft repeated, of struggles to be patient 
and cheerful under little annoyances which many 
cannot meet cheerfully, of desire persisted in to be 
like the Master. Blessings on the tired one who 
can wake with a smile and show the spirit triumphing 
over the body." 

The explanation of such lives is to be found in 
the fact that they are servants of Christ, who was 
Himself transfigured on the mountain-top by the 
presence of God within Him, and who gives to all 

S3 



54 THE VICTORY LIFE 

who yield their lives to Him the power of living a 
transfigured life. 

The secret of a transfigured life is the same for 
men to-day as it was for Jesus, the God-man. They 
must know how to retire to a mountain-top for 
prayer when they are perplexed and need strength 
and guidance for the duties before them. They can 
find their mountain-top in an instant's time, if they 
will only pour out their hearts to God with earnest 
desire for his blessing. And what blessed days are 
those when the mountain-top blessing comes! And 
what dreary days, when men grope along the ground 
in the valleys — when they have no mountain-top 
experiences with God ! 



XIV 

WHEN CIRCUMSTANCES ARE 
PECULIAR 

HER hands were calloused and toil-worn, her 
face was lined and her clothes were shabby, 
but her cheeks were ruddy, her blue eyes 
were bright, and her step was still firm," wrote one 
who responded to the request of an editor to tell of 
people who were content in spite of untoward cir- 
cumstances. 

"She was working in a factory; but she had no 
fault to find. One day the foreman missed her. 
'Have you been ill?' he asked, when she returned 
to work. 'Oh, no!' she said, 'but Peter was home. 
I was left a widow when my children were very 
young. I have worked for them. Peter is the last. 
He is at Yale. He is doing what he can to help me. 
But education takes a lot of money. That is why 
I have gone to work without his knowledge. When 
he comes home for a few days I stay there until he 
returns. That is the way I fool him/ It was 
pointed out to her that he would probably marry 
and she would be lonely. 'I want him to marry/ 
she said. 'If he turns out to be a good man, I shall 
be content. I don't need much, anyway, and God 
is good/" 

A second contributor told of her happy summer 
vacation in the mountains. She was poor, and she 
could not go far afield. So she decided to take her 
supper every evening during the summer on top of 

55 



56 THE VICTORY LIFE 

Mount Spenlow, near her home. On a flat stone 
she ate a meal prepared in a big fireplace. 

"I spent almost no money," she says. "I did 
not travel beyond the boundaries of my home town, 
but at the end of the summer I had made many new 
and interesting friends, I had seen more wonderful 
pictures than I could have found in foreign museums, 
I had got a new outlook on life." 

The third contributor told of an invalid who knew 
she could never hope to rise from her bed. She 
resolved to have adventures in contentment. To 
her the rug became the ground in a pine grove; 
the tinted walls seemed like far-away hills at dusk; 
the pictured scenery on the walls was her border 
country where she spent countless hours. "Some- 
times she rested in the woods, sometimes she followed 
the stream down to a certain inlet where a boat was 
hidden. Then she would drift or row across the 
river and explore the country on the farther side. 
She said she liked best to follow the zigzag paths 
and the straighter roads and find adventures along 
the way." 

What would you do if you were laid aside? What 
would you do if you were to be deprived of many of 
the privileges which now seem to you essential to 
your happiness? Rather, what are you doing to 
make darkness bright and hard things easy for 
yourself and for your friends ? 

Are you tempted to shrug your shoulders and 
say it is impossible to be happy and to make other 
people happy under your peculiar circumstances? 
Yes, if you try alone. But always remember that 
you do not have to try alone. This is one of the 
things that with man is impossible, but with God is 
gloriously possible. 



XV 
WHY PRAY? 

THE Christian's reason for praying is that 
God invites prayer; that He promises to 
give to His children who talk to Him just 
what they need for every day. Those who pray in 
belief in His power to help, and in readiness to do 
what God wants them to do, will receive just what 
they need and at the very time known to God as 
the moment of greatest need. Yet if the thoughts 
of too many Christians were put into words, they 
would carry a meaning something like the query 
by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney: 

Among so many, can He care? 
Can special love be anywhere? 
A myriad homes — a myriad ways — 
And God's eye over every place? 

Try Him and see! It is possible to learn a lesson 
from the old Yorkshire farmer who, when the maker 
of a wordy, so-called prayer closed with the words, 
"And now, O Lord, what more shall we say unto 
Thee?" felt impelled to interrupt, "Call him Feyther, 
mon, and ax for summat!" 

Mrs. Whitney gives the same advice. The second 
stanza of her little poem reads: 

. . . My soul bethought of this: 
In just that very place of His 
Where He hath put and keepeth you, 
God hath no other thing to do! 

Gilchrist, in his "Life of William Blake," the 
English etcher and poet, has told of an artist friend 

57 



58 THE VICTORY LIFE 

who sought Mr. Blake's advice in difficulty. "What 
do you do when invention flags ? " he asked. Turn- 
ing to Mrs. Blake, the poet asked, "What do we do 
then, Kate?" "We kneel down and pray," was 
the reply. 

Is it any wonder that the lives of both Mr. and 
Mrs. Blake were so full of strength and love and 
peace ? 

Dr. Samuel McComb, in "The New Life," quotes 
from a private letter written by a physician to his 
nephew, which breathes the same belief in the 
reasonableness of prayer and tells of like results: 

"I stand here in my front yard and talk with God, 
when I feel like it, or when I am on the road any- 
where, silently or audibly. ... I can't see Him, 
but I can feel His presence just as I feel yours, or 
your Dad's, or dear Tante Mary's, or your mother's 
presence; and the thought and feeling I have of 
God • . . is one of peace and grace and faith, of 
beauty, of love and of confidence. . . . Cultivate 
the habit of prayer. Pray to the Great Spirit every 
time you start out to do anything that you know will 
test your powers. Pray at any time and everywhere. 
I say to the Great Spirit, for that is the name I like 
best for God, whenever I feel I am up against it and 
weakening, or likely to prove not my best self in 
some trying situation: 'Help me out, Great Spirit, 
will you? I am a poor fellow; I have not cultivated 
my gifts as I should have done; I lack strength of 
character in many ways; help me out.' And just 
in proportion as I am in earnest and have faith my 
prayer is answered — sometimes not at all and 
sometimes so fully that I feel a flood of light and 
beauty, of love and devotion, pouring in upon me." 

The deepest need of the heart is God, who gives 
Himself to those that seek Him. 



XVI 
AWAY WITH SADNESS! 

WHEN Oliver Wendell Holmes was asked to 
express in five words his idea of happiness, 
he said, "Four feet on a fender." That 
delightful picture needs no explanation; what greater 
happiness could there be than for two people, who 
are all in all to each other, to sit before the evening 
fire and commune about the deep things of life ? 

Dr. Edward Leigh Pell has taken the words of 
Dr. Holmes' reply as the title for a book that tells 
of the peace worth while and how to secure it. The 
author sits at the fireside with his reader and talks 
of the things that make for victory and con- 
tentment in the midst of confusion and unrest. 

Among the secrets of victory mentioned is one 
that would not readily occur to one reader in fifty 
— burden-bearing. There is crying need for those 
who will forget self in thought for others, yet how 
many people there are whose watchword is "self," 
instead of "sacrifice"; who are so possessed of the 
idea that the world owes them a living that it never 
occurs to them to think that perhaps they owe 
something to the world. What such people need is 
a sense of kinship with God and humanity that will 
make absolutely impossible the feeling that one is 
a unit, complete in himself. Those who have no 
sense of kinship pursue their own way in the world 
as if deaf and blind. Such people never find their 
place in life. 

One of the author's friends learned a second 
secret of victory. " She was one of those women whose 

59 



6o THE VICTORY LIFE 

lot in life is to bear many burdens with little aid 
from the inspiration which is born in human friend- 
ship, yet her face was the most perfect picture of 
peace and contentment I have ever known/' Dr. 
Pell says. "It used to make me feel that she had 
just been talking with the angels. I would go over 
to see her every day and I knew her ways. Every 
morning, when the rush of household cares was over, 
she would take her Bible into the quiet parlor and 
lock the door. I often wondered what she did, for 
not a sound would come from the room for half an 
hour. Then I would hear the click of the lock, 
and the door would open; and though 1 was but a 
little child I must have seen the glimmer of a new 
light in her face, for I felt that something had hap- 
pened. I did not understand it then, but it was 
something like — four feet on a fender. 5 ' 

There was not only Bible-reading in that room; 
there were prayer of the vital sort and real com- 
munion with God as with an intimate friend. Those 
who will be His companions at the fender have the 
best possible equipment for life, an equipment that 
needs to be renewed every day. And those make 
the most out of prayer who lose sight of the "idea 
that prayer is a harvest machine/' who never use it 
but for ingathering. But those who learn the 
secret of prayer "use prayer largely as an outlet." 
"They have almost ceased to go to God to ask for 
things; they go to pour out their gratitude for 
what He has already given them. It is not until 
prayer becomes largely praise that it becomes a de- 

light." 

"Gratitude is the magic wand that transforms a 
crust into a cake, a threadbare garment into a silken 
robe, a monotonous existence into a life of song. 
It is like a good appetite; as to a hungry man the 



VICTORY OF CONTENTMENT 6 1 

plainest food makes the richest feast, so to a heart 
full of thankfulness the simplest life is the sweetest. 
To an unthankful spirit all life is a desert; to a 
thankful spirit every desert is a rose garden. " 

Then let there be more thankfulness, that the 
world may be made up of rose gardens. "Man is a 
great counter, but he is so apt to spend his time 
counting to no purpose. Some of us are always 
counting our chickens before they are hatched. 
If we would oftener count the chickens God has 
already given us, I am sure those to come would 
hatch out the better." We need to be like Alice 
Freeman Palmer, who said once: "I don't know 
w T hat will happen if life keeps on growing so much 
better and brighter each year. How does your 
cup happen to hold so much? Mine is running 
over, and I keep getting larger cups, but I can't 
contain all my blessings and gladness." 

And it would be helpful to follow the example of 
that creation of Irving Batcheller, who said, in a 
time of gloom: "Away with sadness! She often 
raps at my door, and while I try not to be rude, I 
always pretend to be very busy. Just a light word 
o' recognition by way o' common politeness! Then 
laugh, if ye can do it quickly, lad, an' she will pass 
on." 

There is one relief that is always open to those 
who would fight off depression — the way taken by 
a stone-mason at work in the Highlands of Scotland 
who was accustomed to spend his evenings on the 
shores of Loch Awe, "drinking in the beauty of 
God's world, so that I can think of it when I bend 
over the stanes to-morrow," he explained. 

Of course it is not possible for any one to escape 
trouble, but it is possible to be superior to trouble. 
"God's promise," in the words of Dr. Pell, "is not 



62 THE VICTORY LIFE 

that his people shall be without trouble, but that 
their hearts shall not break under the burden." 

And what right has the author to give a message 
like this? "He must be one of those who have 
never known sorrow or trouble or anguish," one is 
tempted to say. No! he has every right to speak, 
for the volume referred to was written while Dr. 
Pell was passing through a prolonged season of 
testing, an ordeal that is best described by the 
phrase, "a baptism of fire." But his heart did not 
break under the burden, for he had learned the 
victory that comes through burden-bearing, and 
through Bible-reading and prayer; through grati- 
tude, and appreciation of the beauty of God's world 
and trust in Him who will not let fall one of those 
who depend on Him. 



XVII 
IN A CORNER 

WHY do you bury yourself in this small 
place? Your talents are not appreciated 
here. Why don't you get out into the 
open and dazzle the world? You can do it. Why 
waste yourself in a corner?" 

That message has a familiar sound to many an 
earnest man. Probably he has heard it from some 
well-meaning friend. Almost certainly he has heard 
it in his own heart in some hour of special discourage- 
ment. Times without number he may have silenced 
the clamor of unworthy ambition, because of the 
assurance that he is in the exact corner where God 
wants him. 

But a temptation like that is apt to repeat itself, 
and with force. To most people there comes a 
day when the cry of ugly discontent and selfish 
ambition refuses to be silenced. What then? 

Joseph B. Dunn, in "In the Service of the King," 
has told of a Christian's experiences at a time like 
this. He was in the depths. Why was he buried 
where there was no outlook, no hope? 

In his time of blackest gloom he dropped wearily 
into a chair in his study. Listlessly he picked up a 
volume which, days before, he had left, open, on 
his desk. "Wholly by accident, if you will, his 
eyes caught the caption of the chapter yet unread. 
It was 'The Galilean Ministry/ He stared at the 
words printed there till their meaning seemed to 
burn itself into his brain. Then, speaking aloud 
and calling himself by name, he said, 'You con- 

63 



64 THE VICTORY LIFE 

temptible little puppy !' . With vision cleared by 
the flashlight of those words he had read, he sat 
down to think. 

"The Galilean Ministry! The King spending his 
life and doing his work in Galilee among the rude 
peasants whose quaint rusticisms made the dwellers 
in the capital city smile! The King making his 
home in Nazareth, and for all but a few months of 
his matchless life left to hold a little post up in the 
hills away from the high-road ! The King in Galilee, 
and the green young subaltern whining because he 
had been sent for a little while to guard the outer 
line of the city itself! The King in Galilee, separated 
by days of weary foot travel from the city of his 
love, and the young subaltern whimpering like a 
lost child because two hours of comfortable travel 
on train stood between him and the center of the 
cleanest and sweetest resultant of that civilization 
He gave to the world !" 

The discontented Christian had been given the 
message he needed. "It was as if the King himself 
had spoken to him. Utterly ashamed and humbled, as 
if he had read in the King's face sad rebuke of his 
disloyalty, the man set himself to face the facts. 
He had volunteered to serve and he had failed, 
not because the task was too hard, but because of 
his own foolish conceit and desire to do his work 
before the eyes of men." 

From that hour the restless fretting was gone from 
his life. "When the prizes of life are given and 
none comes his way; when the names of those 
honored in action are printed in the gazette and his 
name does not appear; though the momentary 
sense of emptiness may come as aforetime, it does 
not linger; and with head erect he goes back to his 
task, whispering, 'I have seen the King/ 5 



VICTORY OF CONTENTMENT 65 

There is this one great need of the Christian who 
feels that he is buried in a corner; let him meet the 
King and see things through the King's eyes, and 
he will be ready still to serve in his corner if that is 
the corner of God's choosing. And his new touch 
with Heaven will enable him to make that corner 
bright and glorious for his Lord. 



THE WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 



We thank Thee, Lord, — 
For that great silence where 
Thou dwell'st alone — 
Father, Spirit, Son, in One, 
Keeping watch above Thine own. — 
Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords 
Of praise beyond the reach of human words; 
In our souls' silence, feeling only Thee, — 
We thank Thee, thank Thee, 
Thank Thee, Lord. 

— John Oxenham, in "All's Well 



)> 



XVIII 
FINDING LIFE'S TRUE CENTER 

EVERY man man has his ideaL Consciously 
or unconsciously his thoughts are influenced, 
his will is moved, his entire life is regulated, 
by this ideal. If his ideal is low, his life never 
reaches a high level. If, on the contrary, his ideal 
is high, his whole life will be an effort to realize it, 
to clothe a skeleton with flesh and blood and make 
it a living reality. If he begins life with the idea 
that he is to secure as much from the world as 
possible at all costs to others who may be in his 
path, his ideal is self, and if he should state his 
creed, he could honestly do no more than say, "For 
me to live is self." 

In attempting to live such a life he is showing 
every moment his unfitness for life. The world 
was not prepared as a pleasure ground for self-seek- 
ers. It is only when men see how ugly is the self- 
centered life, and get a vision of the beauty and satis- 
faction of the life lived with Christ, that they really 
begin to live. It is only when they restate all their 
ideals about Christ as the center that life takes on 
beauty and symmetry and poise. 

A biography of General Fremont tells an incident 
in the life of the soldier that shows what a difference 
the self-forgetful spirit can make. 

" When he was the popular idol of the North, and 
had struggled ineffectually for months to keep his 
place as leader in the army, he was at last driven, 

69 



70 THE VICTORY LIFE 

by injustice as he believed, to give up the struggle. 
He resigned his command in Virginia and came 
home direct to New York, arriving at midnight, to 
the horror and despair of his friends and party. 
Right or wrong, it was the crisis of his life, and he 
had lost. There was at his house that night a most 
insignificant visitor, a young girl from the country. 
She had neither beauty nor wealth nor any power 
to help in this imminent moment. But she was a 
stranger, she had never seen New York, and she 
was his guest. He gave the next day to making a 
careful map of the city and of the jaunts to country 
and seaside, that she might 'understand it all/ 
It was not courtesy nor duty. His mind was 
wholly in it for the moment." 

It is told of Gladstone that while he was in the 
zenith of his glory, an old man who used to sweep 
the street crossings for gratuitous pennies, near the 
Houses of Parliament, was .one day absent. Mr. 
Gladstone, observing his absence, asked about him 
and discovered that he was ill. Learning where 
he lived, the Great Commoner left his busy place in 
the Houses of Parliament, where practically the 
whole British Empire rested upon his efforts. He 
found his way down a lonely alley until he came to 
the place where the humble street-sweeper lay. 
Entering the door, he sat down on a stool by the 
bedside and, taking from his pocket a Testament, 
read concerning Jesus and then knelt and offered a 
prayer. 

A few days after that a missionary called on the 
old man. "You must be very lonely in this place, 
with none to comfort you," the missionary said. 
"Oh, no! I have had a royal visitor," was the un- 
expected reply. Then he told of the coming of 
Gladstone, and of how the great man had left be- 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS Jl 

hind him Jesus the Saviour, on whom the crossing- 
sweeper was resting. 

So one who lived the Christ-centered life was 
able to show a comrade how to center his life in 
Christ and find victory. 



XIX 
DUTY UNDER DIFFICULTIES 

THERE are just two kinds of people — those 
who shrink from every difficulty, every hard- 
ship, and those who accept a difficulty that 
comes in the way of duty as a challenge to put forth 
their strength. The difference is seen in the school- 
room, where one pupil turns from a Latin lesson 
because it looks hard, while another takes it up 
with avidity for the very same reason; it is seen 
when two boys go to the woodpile, for one chooses 
nothing but the straight-grained sticks, while the 
other perspires over the knotty logs as he comes to 
them; it is seen all through life, in the home, in 
business, in the church. From which class of peo- 
ple do the world's workers come? 

Christ makes His appeal to the heroic, the spirit 
that dares when daring is necessary, that endures 
when endurance is duty, that suffers when His 
name is to be magnified by suffering. He asks for 
followers who will make it their supreme business 
to do His will, permitting nothing to distract their 
attention or fritter away their strength; not seeking 
difficulty for difficulty's sake — that would be 
foolhardy — but resolutely facing every hard thing 
for duty's sake. For this service, undaunted by 
obstacles, we have the example of Christ Himself, 
who permitted nothing to come in the way of His 
purpose to redeem men from sin. Those who grow 
discouraged in service will do well to pause a moment 
and " remember Jesus Christ." As they think of 

72 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 73 

what He bore for them, how can they shrink in the 
face of any difficulty He asks them to encounter for 
Him? 

Sometimes the example of Christ seems so far 
beyond human strength that one is discouraged 
as he thinks of it. Then it will be profitable to 
turn one's thoughts to a weak man who, by leaning 
on Christ, learned how to endure hardness of all 
kinds and face difficulties innumerable — Paul, the 
Apostle to the Gentiles. Here was the man who once 
shrank from pain, but who soon learned to endure 
it as he dwelt in close touch with Him who suffered 
untold anguish as He bore in His own body the sins 
of the world. Christ will help men to-day to bear, 
to endure, to conquer, as surely as He helped Paul. 

The question was once asked of a Christian 
worker, " Isn't your work hard?" "Well, what if 
it is?" was the answer. "It's my work, and woe to 
me if I don't do it!" That was the spirit of the man 
from the day he began his self-sacrificing efforts for 
others. At first he feared the difficulties that con- 
fronted him. He trembled when men opposed him. 
But the experience of the wonderful way Christ 
has of fulfilling His promises to assist His workers 
opened this man's eyes and made him so like ada- 
mant that difficulties made no mark on him. 

"If it's duty, it's duty, that's all there is about 
it," said another Christian, speaking in a courageous 
woman's way her conviction. 

"But life is so hard when one looks at it in this 
way!" the complaint is heard. Then don't look at 
it in that way. Follow Christ's example, and look 
to the end. What if things are hard now? A time 
is coming when they will be pleasant. "If we die 
with Him, we shall also live with Him." 



XX 

THE FIRST THING 

FOR so many people the coming of real satis- 
faction into life is seriously hindered by the 
feeling that, since they cannot do great things 
for others, they will not attempt small things. Yet 
no real satisfaction is possible unless one is making 
the most of what he has. 

"What would you do if you had a million dollars ?" 
was the question discussed by a company of young 
people. Naturally, many of the suggestions were 
wild and impracticable; the wise apportionment of 
an amount that is, fortunately, far beyond the ex- 
perience of most people, is a matter of extreme diffi- 
culty. But the question, "What would you do 
with one hundred dollars?" is far more practical, 
and the answers given to it would be more nearly 
a true revelation of character. 

The writer of a magazine story has told of a young 
man who wanted something so intensely that it was 
continually in his mind. One day he held in his 
hand an unexpected legacy for one hundred dollars. 
Now he could have what he wanted! "He needed 
it, needed it more than any one else could, and 
it was his. His sensitive mouth quivered and his 
eyes looked hunted; he drew the money through 
his long fingers as eagerly as a miser might." 

The money was still burning a hole in his pocket 
when his older brother told in his hearing of the 
vain longing to go to Chicago, where he was sure 

74 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 75 

he could secure a far better position than he had. 
Then he remarked sadly that there was no chance; 
the trip would cost too much. 

Then one of the two sisters of the possessor of 
one hundred dollars told of her desire. If only she 
could have forty dollars for additional voice lessons, 
she would be able to teach others so well that her 
services would be in demand. But what was the 
use of wishing for the forty dollars ? 

That evening the second sister, a stenographer, 
fainted. The physician said she must have a week 
in the country. "Always somewhere to put money, 
the money we haven't got," said the overworked 
mother. 

Later in the evening the man tramped the streets 
for hours, trying to answer an insistent question. 
"Was he responsible for his sisters and his brother? 
Should his hundred dollars go to them? Why?" 

The next morning he startled his brother by say- 
ing, "IVe got a hundred dollars, and it's got to do 
the work of about five." 

Then he explained his purpose. It was to send 
the sick sister to the country, paying her week's 
salary to his mother; to send his brother to Chicago 
and keep him there while he hunted a position. As 
soon as he got a job, the brother was to send the 
money back, that it might be used to pay for music 
lessons. When the music class was in good running 
order the teacher would be able to repay the loan, 
and the greater part of the original sum would again 
be in the hands of the legatee. 

The program was carried out. Four people were 
made happy; but the lender was the happiest of all. 

Perhaps some who read of him think, "If I had one 
hundred dollars I could make as good use of it as 
he did." Good! But isn't it more to the point for 



76 THE VICTORY LIFE 

one to ask himself what use he is making of the 
money he already has at his command? The best 
way to prove purpose and ability to administer 
aright larger possessions is to make good use of the 
smaller. Jesus said, "Thou hast been faithful over 
a few things; I will make thee ruler over many 
things/' 



XXI 
DOING ONE'S BEST 

USUALLY the trolley conductor was cheerful 
and smiling, yet one bright spring morning 
he smiled with an effort. It was evident 
that something was troubling him. A passenger 
longed for the chance to speak to him, but the car 
was crowded and the opportunity did not come. 

But next morning he was as bright as ever. He 
radiated cheerfulness to such an extent that the 
whole earful of passengers was infected. To the 
passenger who had observed him the day before, 
he offered a newspaper clipping. "Read that," he 
said. "Yesterday I was feeling blue because my job 
seemed so small, but that bit of verse fixed me up." 

What if the verse he offered for inspection was 
crude? It told the story of a little country church, 
hidden far from centers of population, and pictured 
the good that had been done by inconspicuous 
service. 

"Tru all right now," the conductor said, as the 
clipping was returned to him. "Tin going to make 
the most of my job." 

That very day the morning paper printed a 
startling bit of biography that impressed the teach- 
ing of the conductor's clipping. The epic message 
was given under the head "Obituary." It read: 

"Mary, or ' Little Mary/ as she was lovingly 
called in the family she served for many years, came 
to this country from Ireland when she was a young 

77 



78 THE VICTORY LIFE 

girl. For more than fifty years she lived with the 
Fassitt family, sharing their joys and sorrows, 
giving of her best for their comfort and happiness, 
knowing only them and loving them and loved by 
them. Mary had few advantages in the way of 
learning. She could not read, though the family 
often tried to teach her. But her heart was true, 
and she made up in natural intelligence what she 
lacked in education. 

"Mary was full of wit. It was a pleasure to talk 
to her, for she was quick in repartee and ready to 
accept pleasantries of speech in the spirit in which 
they were spoken. Her kindness and sympathy 
with all who were in any trouble and her desire to 
help can never be forgotten. But it was her long 
service in one family, her dignified honoring of her 
work, and her devoted loyalty to all the members 
of the family that made her more than a servant. 
She was a friend. 

"In these days when so few continue in household 
routine and life, and when * service 9 is called ' drudg- 
ery/ it is refreshing to have known so true and 
faithful a helper. And it is a privilege to lay this 
little wreath of appreciation and affection upon the 
grave of one who has set an example of simple 
Christianity, of loyalty, of love. A quiet, faithful 
soul, known only to a few, has ended her course, 
having lived her life well, and has gone to her re- 
ward. Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 

Is another message needed after that? Then 
here it is, for good measure. George Clark Peck, 
in "Men Who Missed the Trail," tells the story of 
a minister who spoke a word of pity to a cobbler 
upon the lowliness of his task. But the cobbler, 
with the pride of an archangel in his eyes, flung 
back the preacher's pity into his face, "If I peg 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 79 

shoes as conscientiously as you prepare sermons, 
I'll be just as acceptable to God." 

Then Mr. Peck goes on to say, "What of preachers, 
anyhow, except for plain shoemakers, plain arti- 
sans, and all sorts of humble folks to practice the 
preaching? . . . No real service can ever be mean. 
The humblest task that God lays at any man's 
hand is worthy of being invested with celestial dig- 
nity." 



XXII 
GIVING SATISFACTION TO ANOTHER 

SOON after Alice Freeman Palmer, in later years 
the president of Wellesley College, went from 
the University of Michigan to Lake Geneva, 
Wisconsin, where she did her first school teaching, 
she wrote to a friend this statement of her life 
purpose: 

"You ask me how I work among the girls to gain 
influence. Let me talk to you a little about this. 
As I lived among these young people day after day 
I felt a want of something; not intellectual or even 
religious culture; not a lack of physical training 
or that acquaintance with social life which can be 
so charming in a true woman, but a something I 
must call heart culture in lack of a better name. 
Every one was kind, but cold. There was no in- 
tentional freezing, but an absence of the sunshine 
which melts its own way. Looking on and into 
them, I said, 'I will try to be a friend to them all 
and put all that is truest and sweetest, sunniest 
and strongest, that I can gather, into their lives. 
While I teach them solid knowledge and give them 
real school drill as faithfully as I may, I will give, 
too, all that the years have brought to my own soul. 
God help me to give what He gave myself and make 
that self worth something to somebody; teach me 
to love all as He has loved, for the sake of the in- 
finite possibilities locked up in every human soul/ 

" Whenever these girls want help or comfort, my 
door and heart shall be open. Not that I have said 

80 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 8l 

this. I have just felt it, and I think they feel it, 
too. We kneel together every evening, and every 
morning at chapel service their faces look up into 
mine. Keeping my eyes open for chances, I find 
the rest takes care of itself — a word, a look even, 
the touch of a hand, and, by-and-by, when the 
time comes, something more. Why, what is it to 
be a Christian, a Christ-follower, unless it is going 
about doing good? We ought to love everybody 
and make everybody love us. Then everything 
else is easy." 

A delegate to a Young Men's Christian Associa- 
tion conference has told of a boy delegate who made 
the prayer: "Help us to keep straight. We know 
it's hard and that we need all the help we can possibly 
get. And when weVe been straightened up our- 
selves, help us to help the other fellows to get the 
same thing that weVe got. Amen." That boy 
had the idea of "passing on the blessing." The 
sooner others get hold of the same idea the better it 
will be for them and for the world. 

The world's hunger for the simple little things, 
that cost the giver nothing, but mean everything 
to the recipient, was indicated by a mission worker 
who told of a leper whom children were mocking, 
but on whose head a missionary put her hand as 
she asked her to sit down on the grass beside her. 
The woman fell to sobbing, and cried out, "A 
human hand has touched me. For seven years no 
one has touched me." A mere touch was so easy 
to give, but no one had thought of giving it before. 

One of the easiest things that can be done is the 
speaking of the word of encouragement that takes 
away the sting left by the harshness of another. 
How sweet to give such encouragement ! Yet words 
of that kind are few and far between. Those who 



82 THE VICTORY LIFE 

discourage others should be made to feel the enor- 
mity of their offense. A civilian at Ladysmith 
during the Boer war was sentenced by court-mar- 
tial to a year's imprisonment because he had caused 
despondency by making jeering remarks to the 
soldiers. When every precaution should have been 
taken to cheer the soldiers, his jeers were considered 
a crime. 



XXIII 
THE ONE THING LACKING 

A POPULAR author has told the story of 
a woman who decided to spend a legacy 
in making before her house a beautiful 
garden that would attract the admiration of her 
neighbors and lead them to look on her as a public 
benefactor. Hungry for the popularity that had 
been denied her, she "set about wresting liking from 
her neighbors as her ancestors had wrested what 
they wanted from the wilderness. " 

She pored over the catalogue of the best seeds- 
men. After selecting her seeds, instructions were 
given the gardener that none were to be planted too 
near the fence, lest blooms be plucked by the children. 

The garden bloomed gloriously. She won the 
praise she sought. People admired the flowers — 
from a distance. But she "began vaguely to miss 
something from their praise." What was wrong? 

Commencement Day came. From the garden 
across the way girls in troops gathered blossoms for 
the important event. But no one came near her. 
On Memorial Day children flocked to the same un- 
pretentious garden, and eagerly reached over the 
fence to pluck the flowers they knew were intended 
for them. At the time of the funeral of the best 
loved man in the village the neighbor's garden 
was again the resort for those who would bury the 
casket in fragrant blooms. But no one thought 
of asking the owner of the wonderful garden for so 
much as one flower. 

83 



84 THE VICTORY LIFE 

"They don't like me in the fixed-up place any 
more than they did in the old," the disappointed 
woman thought. Again she asked herself, "What 
can be wrong?" 

The question found no answer until the wedding 
day of the village favorite. "Every yard and 
garden was levied upon for fall flowers for the decora- 
tions and the bouquets for the sixteen bridesmaids 
— every one but Eliza's." 

"That evening Eliza got out the catalogue to 
order her fall bulbs. But she did not open it* She 
was too busy realizing what had been wrong. She 
had planted her garden for herself; she had not 
given a thought to other people except as she de- 
sired that they might minister to her glory. 

"'I'm goin' to plant in with my fall flowers 
something I left out in the spring. It ain't in the 
catalogues, but it's more important than the plants 
on the biggest color plate. It's love.'" 

A writer of stories for business men has told of 
a man upon whose life program "success had al- 
ways been inscribed." He "put high value upon 
attaining it." At length he realized the necessity 
of revising his philosophy of efficiency. "If you 
want to succeed make it your business to succeed," 
he said, "not seventy-five per cent of your business, 
nor ninety per cent of your business, but your entire 
business." 

He resolved to be "one hundred per cent efficient." 
He would remove all obstacles from his path, no 
matter what the cost might be. The first obstacle 
was an efficient stenographer, one of two orphan 
sisters, who was supporting a brother at school. 
The efficient man studied her and discovered how 
several hours a week might be saved by a sten- 
ographer who had more adaptability. So he dis- 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 85 

charged her, silencing the protest of his conscience. 
Sentiment could have no place in the program of 
the efficient man. "Results are all that count/' 
he said to a friend. "Efficiency is entirely imper- 
sonal. You can't be efficient if you take your eyes 
for a moment from the target. It's very pleasant 
to indulge oneself in loyalty and friendship, but 
they are to be considered only as they further the 
selected purpose." And his purpose was to become 
head of the business. "All those who hold impor- 
tant positions are rivals. A rival's weakness may 
turn out to be my strength." 

"But you are paying a frightful price for success," 
said his friend. "You are making everybody sacri- 
fice for you. Your friends miss you. Your wife 
is unhappy. Your boy does not know his father." 

The efficient man agreed that he longed for the 
old companionship with wife and child and with 
friends. "So it is I who am making the big sacri- 
fice," he said. "Me crushing my soul? No, no; 
efficiency may be a stern master, but it can't do 
that." 

The day came when his own brother-in-law stood 
in his way; he saw how he could displace him in 
the interest of his scheme to advance himself. "My 
career must be my first and only consideration," he 
answered his wife when she pleaded for her brother. 

"Think what you are doing," she said. "Isn't 
there an atom of kindness in your creed? Think 
what you are doing! Jimmy will never come to this 
house again. You will break my heart." 

"I have one objective, and only one," was Effi- 
ciency's answer. 

At last he sat in the president's chair. But the 
triumph was empty. His wife had found the home 
unbearable, and she had taken their boy away. 



86 THE VICTORY LIFE 

Friends had forsaken him. Then he communed 
with himself, and made this sad conclusion: 

"Efficiency has played me a rough trick. It 
has stripped me of the affection of wife and child 
and friends; it emasculated my powers of sharing 
love. But it didn't kill the desire for love — not 
for an instant. Here I sit upon my tall, lonely 
mountain. Torturing fires burn within me. A 
man ought not to have one absolute, supreme aim, 
particularly if that aim is material." 

He was wrong. A man ought to have one su- 
preme aim. Paul said, "This one thing I do," but 
in his case the one thing was service of Christ, love 
of Christ, union with Christ. That is the secret of 
Paul's success, success that has made his name live 
while those whom this world called great in his day 
are forgotten. 

Dr. Ernest Bourner Allen has told of an Italian 
woman in one of the settlement houses of Toledo 
who was asked to embroider some figures on a piece 
of clothing. She was to receive a specified price, 
and there were to be a certain number of figures. 
When the work was completed, beautiful and per- 
fect, it was found that she had embroidered two 
extra figures in the pattern. When asked why she 
did it, without pay, at the cost of time and strength, 
she replied, "I did it for love's sake." 

Yet the self-centered business man said, "Effi- 
ciency is entirely impersonal!" It is love that 
"beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 
things, endureth all things. Love never faileth. ..." 

But efficiency fails — when it is not transformed, 
strengthened, glorified by love. 



XXIV 
BURDEN-BEARING WITH CHRIST 

ONCE when Jesus was speaking to the people 
gathered about him, he gave one of the 
most ^wonderful invitations and promises 
ever spoken, "Come unto Me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 

But how surprised the people must have been 
when He went on to say, "Take My yoke upon you 
and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, 
and ye shall find rest unto your souls." 

What did Christ mean? What does He mean 
now as He asks his followers to bear a yoke ? How 
can there be rest in the hard, grinding toil that 
bearing a yoke implies ? 
The question has been answered thus : 

"Rest is not quitting 
This busy career; 
Rest is the fitting 

Of self to one's sphere. 

" 9 Tis the brook's motion. 
Clear, without strife. 
Fleeting to ocean 
After this life. 

" 'Tis loving and serving 
The highest and best; 
'Tis onward, unswerving, 
And this is true rest." 
87 



88 THE VICTORY LIFE 

This is the secret of rest, serving with Christ, 
who is the yokefellow of every one of his followers. 
He does not ask them to bear the yoke alone. 

"In a visit to a glass-works a stranger was very 
much impressed by something in connection with 
the manufacture of the great earthen pots in which 
the glass is melted in the furnace. These pots must 
be able to stand intense heat for a long period. 
Many experiments have been tried in their manu- 
facture, yet there seems to be but one successful 
way. The carefully selected and prepared clay is 
moulded by hand. First a large circular layer of 
clay, for the bottom of the pot, is placed upon the 
floor of the moulding room. Next day, a ring of 
clay is put around the edge of it, and left to dry. 
Each day the wall of the pot is built up a few inches 
until, at the end of fifteen days, the pot is completed. 
The clay is soft, and if it should be formed all in 
one, the weight of the clay would itself destroy the 
shape. It must be made a little at a time, as it has 
strength to bear the weight of the new material 
added. " So Christ deals with his people, leading 
them on to greater and greater service for him, 
but never asking of them more than they can per- 
form. 

The trouble with so many Christians is that they 
try to bear more than God asks them to bear. As 
an Englishman recently said: "A number of men 
were once talking about the burdens of duty, and 
one of them declared that these burdens were some- 
times too heavy to be borne. 'Not/ said another, 
'if you carry only your own burden, and don't try 
to take God's work out of His hands/ Last year 
I crossed the Atlantic with one of the most skilful 
and faithful captains of the great liners. We had 
a terrific storm, during which, for thirty-eight hours, 



WAY OF LIVING FOR OTHERS 89 

he remained on the bridge, striving to save his 
passengers. When the danger was over I said to 
him, 'It must be a terrible thought at such a time 
that you are responsible for the lives of over a 
thousand human beings.' 'No,' he said, solemnly, 
'I am not responsible for the life of one man on this 
ship. My responsibility is to run the ship with all 
the skill and faithfulness possible to any man. God 
himself is responsible for all the rest/ " 

Yet God does expect every one to bear his own 
burden. Henry Ward Beecher said to a boy who 
asked him for an easy place: "You cannot be an edi- 
tor; do not try the law; do not think of the ministry; 
let alone all ships, shops and merchandise; be not 
a farmer nor a mechanic; neither be a soldier nor 
a sailor; don't work; don't study; don't think. 
None of these are easy. Oh, my son, you have come 
into a hard world. I know of only one easy place 
in it, and that is the grave." 



THE WAY OF SERVICE 



"This is peace: 
To conquer love of self and lust of life; 
To tear deep-rooted passion from the breast; 
To still the inward strife; 
To lay up lasting treasure 
Of perfect service rendered, duties done 
In charity, soft speech and stainless days. 
These riches shall not fade away in life, 
Nor any death dispraise." 



XXV 
A WONDERFUL PARTNERSHIP 

SOME years ago, early on a winter morning 
when the river was full of floating ice, a Jersey 
City ferryboat crowded with men going to 
their work collided with a passing vessel. The 
ferryboat at once listed heavily and would almost 
certainly have sunk if it had not been for the presence 
of mind and heroism of a passing tugboat captain. 
He jumped aboard the vessel, located the gaping 
hole in the vessel's side, caulked it with mattresses 
and everything suitable for the purpose which could 
be discovered; then, when there was nothing else 
to fill a narrow space through which the water was 
pouring in, unhesitatingly thrust his arm into the 
opening. As the water was only trickling in, the 
ferryboat could be safely taken to its slip. When 
all was safe, strong men carried the hero to the am- 
bulance. He was unconscious. The arm which 
had been exposed to the grinding cakes of ice was 
torn to the bone. 

At once, to his surprise, the injured captain found 
himself a hero. Columns were devoted to the 
story of his exploit by the newspapers. His praise 
was in every one's mouth. 

It was different with Peter and the other Apostles 
when in the course of the work for Christ in Jeru- 
salem they healed the sick and acted as God's 
agents in performing other miracles. The benefited 
people rejoiced. But the priests were so jealous 
that they thrust the apostles into prison. 

"Well, if that's the reward we get, we'll stop try- 

93 



94 THE VICTORY LIFE 

ing to help folks," would probably have been the 
thought of the apostles, but for one thing: they had 
been commissioned by God to do his work. "What 
if we are in prison? Can't God take care of us here 
just as well as in the Temple?" He did take care 
of them. He sent His angel to open the prison 
doors, and they were set at liberty. 

"How convenient it would be to have angels 
around to help us in time of need!" is the remark 
of some who read this record of the apostolic days. 
God has promised that those who trust Him shall 
have the protecting care of His angels. For the 
fulfilment of that promise it is not necessary that a 
visible angel with wings, according to the popular 
conception of an angel, shall lift his hands in behalf 
of men. God has many ways of sending His mes- 
sengers — the word "angel" means messenger — into 
the world. Parents, friends, business associates, 
the child on the street, may all be God's angels, 
His messengers, to help those in need. 

This truth was illustrated by the story of a young 
man who was brought home from college with 
delirium tremens. When at last he came to his 
senses, he cried out bitterly to the doctor, "I've 
nobody to help me. They talk about God. I've 
never seen Him. The angels walked on earth in 
Bible days. Why can't God send an angel to me if 
I'm worth saving?" "You are not worth saving," 
said the doctor, "unless you try to save yourself. 
As for God's angels, the world is full of them. Your 
mother was sent as straight from God to you as 
any angel who ever brought a message to the world." 
The young man's heart was touched as he said, 
"You are right. I always took my mother as a 
matter of course, but I see now. She's His 
messenger." 



THE WAY OF SERVICE 95 

When the apostles had been delivered, they were 
told to go to the Temple and preach. Perhaps it 
seemed to some a foolhardy thing for them to go 
on doing the very thing for which they had been 
arrested. Yet God had given them their orders, 
and it is never foolhardy to obey him; the foolhardy 
thing is to disobey. The apostles simply knew 
that they must obey; God would take care of the 
consequences. Their faith was as well grounded 
as that of the man to whom a scoffer said, "I sup- 
pose you would not hesitate if God should tell you 
to jump through that stone wall?" "No," was 
the answer, "for I would only have to jump at it; 
God would take care of the going through." 

The apostles proceeded to "jump at their stone 
wall." They began once more to preach, and they 
were again apprehended. "Didn't we tell you not 
to teach in the name of Jesus?" the priests demanded 
of them. The accused men did not quail before 
the angry words, but answered, "We must obey 
God rather than men." Those priests must have 
felt very much as did a manufacturer when he re- 
ceived the resignation of a Christian young man who 
had been quite successful in selling machinery for 
him until the day when new instructions were given 
which could not be obeyed without breaking God's 
law. 

That ringing answer of the apostles, "We must 
obey God rather than men," would make a superb 
motto for everyday life. Think how it would solve 
the problems of the street, the house of business, 
and the home! What a partnership it is! The 
best of it is that any one who will may enter the 
firm, and so multiply his life more than can be 
told. "One with God is a majority." Then get 
with God. 



XXVI 
HE IRONED OUT THE WRINKLES 

ONE day in May, 1907, when a party of Sunday- 
school pilgrims traveling by the Neckar 
was in mid-ocean, Dr. George W. Bailey 
was talking to them of the great Rome World's 
Sunday School Convention to which they were going. 
Knowing well what a temptation it would be to many 
to omit some of the convention sessions in order 
that they might have more time to see the Eternal 
City, Dr. Bailey urged all to be constant and faith- 
ful, and so to give to observers an object lesson 
of Christian singleness of purpose. At once arose 
a delegate, who challenged, "You do not expect us 
to attend all the meetings, do you?" 

It was a disturbing question. There was evi- 
dence of unrest among the delegates. There was 
curiosity, too. What would be the answer? And 
was there not reason to fear that any answer would 
increase the unrest, rather than diminish it? 

But Dr. Bailey was equal to the occasion. Look- 
ing with twinkling eyes intently at the questioner, 
he answered, quietly, "Not unless you really wish 
to." 

There was an involuntary sigh of relief. The 
situation had been saved by a single sentence. 

Dr. Bailey's handling of that difficulty was 
characteristic. He was noted, not only among 
Sunday-school workers but in business circles, as 
a man who knew how to pour oil on the troubled 
waters. "Let us iron out the wrinkles!" was a 

96 



THE WAY OF SERVICE 97 

favorite expression with him. Somehow — and very- 
soon — the tense situation was "ironed out," and 
all was serene. 

Dr. Bailey insisted that for everything worthy 
in his character he was indebted to his father and 
mother. Theirs was a home where God was honored. 
His earliest recollections clustered about the family 
altar where, no matter what the weather or the 
pressure of work on the farm, all the "help" was 
expected to be present. Neither late rising nor 
the prospect of a busy day was permitted to shorten 
the time usually devoted to Scripture reading, 
singing, and prayer. It was the custom for all to 
read in turn. The father's prayers were earnest and 
impressive; he knew that he was speaking to One 
who loved him. 

The Bailey home was four miles from church. 
But the question was never raised by a member 
of the family as to whether or not he should attend 
service. No excuses were accepted. Those who 
were well enough to be up for breakfast were ex- 
pected to be in the carriage at the appointed time. 

It was Dr. Bailey's ambition to become a physi- 
cian; but it took years of work upon the farm and 
of teaching the district school before he could secure 
the needed education. Through all these years 
he was "ironing out the wrinkles" of circumstance. 
When at last his diploma was won, an office rented 
and arrangements made to begin practice, the young 
physician could not yet "put out his shingle." 
He was not a Christian. He felt that he did not 
dare begin treating the delicate human body until 
he was divinely guided. For days he wrestled with 
his problem. Then he gave himself to Christ, and 
united with the church. How happy he was! Now 
he could begin his work. He soon had a large prac- 



98 THE VICTORY LIFE 

tice, but after eighteen months 5 experience his 
health broke down. Then he went into business. 
As a business man he realized that there could 
be no real satisfaction in life without earnest service 
in behalf of his fellows. So he gave liberally of his 
time and his means to Sunday-school work. Gradu- 
ally he became a leader by reason of a wonderful 
combination of industry, insight and suavity. It 
has been said that during a period of twenty-seven 
years, when he was chairman of an important 
group of Christian workers, not one question of 
moment was decided by a majority vote. Fre- 
quently differences of opinion were made known, 
but under his leadership these differences were 
adjusted. "It is possible for Christian men to 
agree," was his own explanation of this result. 
But others were not slow to speak of the quality 
that produced such results. "The iron and wine 
are mingled in his make-up," was one associate's 
explanation. "He has a will and a determination 
of purpose that would become a general, and a 
softness of expression and tenderness of heart like 
that of a mother." Such a combination must inevi- 
tably make for victory. 



XXVII 

VICTORY THROUGH UNSELFISHNESS 

AT the close of the summer vacation period 
one friend was asking another what had 
most impressed him during his weeks of 
absence seeking recreation. 

"I am afraid my answer will surprise you," came 
the response. "I saw the Great Lakes, but I cannot 
say they stand first in my memories of the summer. 
I looked on the grandeur of Niagara; I walked down 
the romantic Watkins Glen, spent weeks in the 
White Mountains, and watched the Atlantic in 
storm and calm. But as I look back on my summer, 
I think more often of a quiet, unassuming woman 
whose face attracted me because it was the calmest, 
most peaceful face I have ever seen. Of course I 
thought the reason was that she had never known 
trouble. I learned my mistake; her life had been 
full of trouble. 'Then how could she always be 
calm and serene?' My question was not answered 
until I had a wonderful glimpse into her life. 

"We were guests together in a little hotel in a 
New York village. The few other guests who were 
there had been attracted by the quiet, the beautiful 
scenery, and the half-dozen mineral springs near 
the hotel. 

''The water from these springs is valued by the 
guests not only for its medicinal properties, but also 
because glassware, when properly sprayed with it, 
takes on the most beautiful yellow tints and lights. 
No such glassware can be purchased as that which, 

99 



100 THE VICTORY LIFE 

for years, the guests at the hotel who have learned 
the secret have been taking to their own homes and 
the homes of their friends. 

"For some years previous, it had been possible 
to hire a woman in the village to spray the pieces 
brought by the visitors for the purpose. But when 
the guests arrived this summer, they learned, to 
their disappointment, that the villager on whom 
they had depended had moved to a distant farm. 
Reluctantly they made up their minds to take their 
glassware home as they had brought it. 

"Then came the quiet young woman who taught 
me my lesson. She, too, had glassware to color, 
but, unlike her neighbors, she determined to see if 
she could not do the work herself; she had promised 
a friend at home to take her a sample. So she went 
to the farmhouse where the spring was, arranged 
with the housewife to use it, and made ready for 
setting her first piece under the sprayer. 

"That evening Mrs. B., another guest, learned of 
her success in these preparations. 'Oh, how I 
envy you!' she said. 'I did so want to get some 
saucedishes colored. If only I had known in time! 
But I must go home on Saturday/ 

"The quiet woman spoke up at once. 'Must 
you go so soon? Well, I think I can arrange to 
have your work done. It will take only two days, 
and, as I am to be here a month yet, I have plenty 
of time/ 

"On Saturday Mrs. B. went home rejoicing. In 
the evening the quiet woman was just starting for 
the spring with the first piece of her own work, 
when Miss C. met her. 'Mrs. B. showed me her 
beautiful dishes this morning/ she began. 'She is so 
fortunate. I wish you would take pity on me, and 
let me do just one pair of candlesticks. You see, 



THE WAY OF SERVICE IOI 

we are to have a church fair this fall, and I have 
promised them/ 

"Of course Miss C. was given a turn at the spring. 
She was fussy, and she spoiled her first candlesticks 
by leaving them in too long. So two days more 
were taken in fixing a second pair to her satisfaction. 

"Then the quiet woman managed to get two pieces 
finished. They were beautifully done. She was 
delighted with her success, and planned to put a 
vase under the sprayer in the morning. 

"After supper, however, the farmer's wife came 
to her and said that her pastor was about to move 
from the village. His wife had always intended 
to have a dozen or more pieces colored, but she 
had delayed, and now she was to leave in two weeks. 
Could she have the privilege of the spring for five 
days ? 

"Again the woman consented to yield her rights. 
The five days became ten. But the minister's wife 
secured her souvenirs. 

"Just about this time I heard the quiet woman 
smilingly remark to a friend (she didn't know I 
overheard her), 'I have two pieces, anyway, and 
I am sure I can get two more done before 1^ go away.' 

"The very next morning she was talking to an old 
lady who, with her invalid husband, had stopped 
at the hotel over night. When the springs were 
mentioned, the quiet woman told of the marvelous 
coloring properties of the waters, and brought 
from her room the two pieces she had succeeded in 
preparing. The old lady was charmed with them. 
She said she wished she could remain over a few 
days, that she might secure at least one piece for 
herself. There was a look of such longing in her 
eyes that the quiet woman said, 'I'll tell you how 
we'll fix that. You can get some plain pieces like 



102 THE VICTORY LIFE 

these at the village store — I saw them yesterday. 
Leave them with me, and take my pieces home 
with you. I have several weeks yet, and I can get 
my work done in plenty of time/ 

"Well, you can guess the rest. The quiet woman 
saw other opportunities to be kind, and when the 
day of her own departure came, all she had to show 
for her season's work were the pieces to replace those 
traded to the old lady. 

"And here is the end of the story. I had a note 
from the quiet woman yesterday. It was in answer 
to one from me thanking her for kindness received 
— you see, I was one of the guests for whom she 
made way at the spring. She told me she had 
taken her two pieces to the friend for whom she 
had promised to prepare one. The friend was 
delighted. And when she was told to choose one 
she found it so hard to make the selection that she 
was asked to take both. 'You know, I go there 
every summer/ my friend wrote me, 'so I can get 
something for myself another time/ 

"Now," was the conclusion, "are you surprised 
that the one thing which made the deepest im- 
pression on me this summer was neither Niagara 
nor the ocean, but the peaceful face of my friend? 
It is a rare accomplishment to know how to put 
oneself last and do it gracefully; but it fills the life 
with peace," 



XXVIII 
VICTORY THROUGH TESTIMONY 

FRANK T. BULLEN, whose stories of sea life 
have captured the hearts of thousands, was 
trained in a Christian home; but he fell 
among evil companions. His awakening came when 
he was in the great pagoda at Rangoon, watching 
the worship of idols. Near him stood an educated 
Chinaman. After watching the sailor, the China- 
man observed, "I suppose you do not believe in 
this form of worship?" 

"I stared up at him in amazement," Mr. Bullen 
said, "and then replied, 'Why, certainly not. 
You don't either, I should imagine/ I confess I 
was not prepared to hear him say, 'Oh, yes, this is my 
religion; but you believe in Jesus Christ, I presume V 

"Thank God for that question!" was the ex- 
clamation of Mr. Bullen after many years. "It 
swept away the mists of unbelief. It gave me an 
opportunity of stating my position as far as I knew 
it. Gave me, too, an exalted sense of being able 
to bear witness to the truth of God in the person 
of his Son. Even out of the thick darkness of my 
ignorance this light flooded my soul, and I answered, 
'Yes, I believe in Jesus Christ. . . . He lived among 
men, doing kindness to all, and, at last, misunder- 
stood, ill treated, and broken-hearted, He was put 
to death. He died as a sacrifice for our sins. And 
He waits now to receive all those who have honored 
Him by believing His words!'" 

When he became a Christian, Mr. Bullen had 

103 



104 THE VICTORY LIFE 

many other opportunities to testify for Christ. Of 
some he took advantage; others he passed by. 
With joy he told of blessings that followed his 
straightforward acknowledgment of his Master; 
with sorrow he spoke of the shameful effect on his 
life when he permitted fear of his fellows to lead 
him to be silent about his best Friend. Once, when 
he joined a new ship, he said not a word about his 
profession of Christianity, and ever afterward on 
that vessel he found Christian testimony impos- 
sible. "Sailing under false colors is always a risky 
as well as a dishonest proceeding," he declared; 
"and in this instance it did me spiritually an 
immense amount of harm." 

But he had a different story to tell of his life on 
another ship, where he was bold enough to let it 
be known at once that he was a Christian. "I 
bowed my head over my plate," he said, "and silently 
thanked God for my food. My colors were not 
only displayed, but nailed to the mast. If I proved 
recreant to them, I should not only be self-con- 
demned, but I should be bitterly despised by even 
the most godless among my shipmates." It is not 
strange that this proved a most glorious voyage. 
His own spiritual life was strengthened and several 
of the most wicked men in the crew became earnest 
Christians before port was reached. 

Sometimes his testimony for Christ by life and 
by word brought persecution. The men tried to 
make him miserable. They sent him to Coventry. 
But he was only driven to prayer and to the Bible 
for comfort and strength. When he stood at the 
wheel, or took his turn at the lookout, he thought 
over the promises of the Father and the words of 
Christ. And then he had great peace and joy, for 
a sailor came to him one night and said, "Look 



THE WAY OF SERVICE IO5 

'ere, ole man, I sh'd like ter know sumfin' 'bout this 
'ere 'ligion o' yourn. I've heerd lots o' stuff 
talked by mish'naries an' parsons, but I couldn't 
never make nothin' out o' it. On'y I b'en watchin' 
yer fer a long time now, an' it fair licks me how yer 
ken go on all this time with all hands a-chippin' at 
yer, an' yet yer don't seem a bit mis'bul." 

How these experiences of the lonely sailor show 
what rich blessings come to the Christian who 
testifies for his Lord, whether by his life or by his 
words proved by his life! His testimony may not 
be effectual in winning others to Christ, but it will 
certainly tell for his own growth toward Christ. 
When Christ says, "When thou art converted, 
strengthen thy brethren," he is not thinking only 
of the brethren who need strengthening; he is 
thinking also of those who should seek to strengthen 
them. And when He gives the command to go and 
witness for Him, He promises to be with those who 
obey. 

Persecution is hard to bear, but patient endurance 
of persecution in the strength of the Lord is just 
another method of bearing witness for Him. And 
the patient endurance of persecution brings blessing 
and peace. Christ had this in mind when He gave 
the promise to those who are persecuted for right- 
eousness' sake. 

But perhaps the lesson from Mr. Bullen's experi- 
ences most needed by the young Christian is the 
necessity of putting himself in the way of witness- 
bearing by making it known that he is a Christian, 
and by making it known at once when he goes 
among new associates. Delay is dangerous. At 
the very first opportunity, the Christian should 
follow the sailor's example, and nail his colors to 
the masthead. Then rich blessings will follow. 



XXIX 

THE UNFAILING CURE 

DEPRESSION is one of the most deadly mala- 
dies known to the physician. No one is 
immune. Until a way is found to throw 
off its debilitating touch, life is clouded, days are 
cheerless, and the victim is a weariness to himself 
and to those who are unfortunate enough to associate 
with him. 

The cure is simple — forgetfulness of self, remem- 
brance of the needs of others, ministering to those 
who need the help we can give them. 

A wise army captain in the Philippine Islands 
knew about this cure. Two soldiers in his com- 
pany were so homesick that they moped about 
the camp all day long, pitying themselves and 
making themselves a nuisance. Punishment had 
been tried in vain. Then the captain sent them 
down to the Young Men's Christian Association in 
Manila. The secretary in charge knew the cure, 
and he applied it at once. Next day the corporal 
who had brought the soldiers from the camp was 
astonished when he hunted up the men. They were 
working in the hospitals, writing letters for the 
wounded to the people at home. "I'm ashamed 
of myself," one of them said to the corporal; "I'm 
a great big baby. Here these boys are, big and brave, 
and telling me fine things to put in their letters 
to cheer up their folks back home. Fm not going 
to be a fool any more." 

A young medical student, when almost ready 
to begin his life work, was compelled to seek health 
in Colorado. At first he was depressed; but soon 

106 



THE WAY OF SERVICE IO7 

his thoughts turned to the needs of others. He 
was nominally a Christian, but he rarely attended 
church, and had never been in Sunday-school. He 
began to go to church and Sunday-school. He took 
a class of boys, and worked with them during the 
week as well as on Sundays. Soon life seemed to 
be worth while once more. 

A young teacher who was sent to a sanitarium 
thought that he might as .well give up. He knew he 
could not recover. What a hard time he was hav- 
ing! How difficult it was to abandon every activity 
when life ought to be all before him! He was one 
of the most woebegone looking patients in the 
establishment. But one day he happened to see a 
man in a wheeled chair into whose eyes the sun was 
shining. Of course he moved the chair. That 
was a beginning. In a few days he was so busy 
wheeling this man about the grounds, or reading to 
a blind man, or cheering an old lady, or playing with 
a crippled boy, that he had time for nothing else. 
Smiles displaced the look of gloom on his face. 
Depression vanished. Before he knew it, he was 
well on the road to the recovery of that health 
which he had thought to be gone forever. 

"Tell him he is making a mistake," a friend of 
the patient wrote to one who had an influence over 
him; "he was not sent to the hospital to tend 
babies and hang around old people; he was sent 
to get his health. M 

Fortunately the appeal was unheeded, for those 
in charge of the institution knew that there is noth- 
ing like unselfish regard for others as a cure for depres- 
sion. They had learned the wisdom of the appeal 
of Paul, that no one should spend so much time 
looking to his own things that he has neither time 
nor strength to look to the things of others. 



XXX 
LIKE HIM 

VICTORY and the peace that follows are not 
intended to be the possession of a fortunate 
few. These boons are offered to all. And 
often they become the possession of most unlikely- 
candidates for such blessings. 

Rev. George S. McCune, missionary to Korea, 
has told of a woman whose poverty seemed to mark 
her out for a life of unquiet misery; whose pock- 
marked face, cross eyes, tiny nose, fat body and 
small head made her a likely candidate for cruel and 
crushing jeers and insults. But she is the best 
loved woman in all her neighborhood. Her fame 
has gone out to the surrounding villages. Wherever 
she goes she is called "Jesus," because she tries to 
be like Him. Once a stranger saw her. She was 
not tempted to laugh at the face that would have 
been pitiful had it not been transformed by the glory 
of Christ Himself. "Who is the woman with the 
radiant face?" she asked. Then she would not 
be content until she found Hyensi, and from her 
learned that Jesus gives peace to all those who live 
with him. 

When a decision was made by the missionary 
board in Hyensi's town to send out another native 
Gospel worker, various candidates were talked of 
by the people, but no one seemed to think of the 
quiet Hyensi. The missionaries thought, however, 
that no one could lead others in ways of quietness 
and peace so well as Hyensi; yet they wished the 

108 



THE WAY OF SERVICE IO9 

natives to feel that they were choosing the new 
worker. It was arranged that Pastor Kim should 
read to the assembled Christians a statement of the 
qualifications needed by the new worker. He made 
fifteen points. Among others were the following: 

"One who is always happy in Jesus. 

"One who is so full of Jesus that she thinks not of 
rules or ways and means in leading another to Jesus. 

"One who makes an effort to make others happy, 
and does it. 

"One who is not trying to keep from losing official 
position already gained. 

"One who has no anxiety about whether her 
health will hold out if she does much work." 

Before the fifteen statements had been read, the 
native women began to whisper, "Hyensi! Hyensi!" 
They wondered that they had not thought of her 
before. When Hyensi was told that she had been 
chosen, she wondered that any one could have 
thought of her for the work in which she would 
take such delight. And as the days pass her face 
becomes more radiant because to her is given the 
privilege of going into the homes of her humble 
neighbors and talking to them of her Friend as she 
helps in the sewing or in the cooking. To her the 
work she does is far from humble, for she is in part- 
nership with her Lord. 

When George Grenfell of Africa was asked how 
he could be content to give his life to the natives 
when honors were waiting for him as an explorer 
and an engineer, he replied that these things were but 
incidents in his work; his real work was that of a 
winner of souls. "The explorer's exultation which 
thrilled him when the morning sun flashed before 
his gaze the broad splendors of a previously undis- 
covered lake, was a faint emotion compared with 



110 THE VICTORY LIFE 

the joy which possessed him when he saw the light 
of the knowledge of the glory of God transfiguring 
some dear black face which his ministry had turned 
toward the face of Christ. ... A poor Congo boy 
passes away in his presence, radiant with the 
Christian's victory over death. Grenfell rises from 
his bedside to bear witness that the sight of such 
another victory would be sufficient compensation 
for another fifteen years of toil in Africa." 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS 



"Thou knowest, not alone as God, all knowing; 

As man, our mortal weakness Thou hast proved; 
On earth, with purest sympathies overflowing, 

O Saviour! Thou hast wept, and Thou hast loved! 
And Love and Sorrow still to Thee may come, 
And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home. 

"Therefore I come, Thy gentle call obeying, 
And lay my sin and sorrow at Thy feet; 
On everlasting strength my weakness staying, 

Clothed in Thy robe of righteousness complete. 
Then rising and refreshed, I leave Thy throne, 
And follow on to know as I am known." 



XXXI 

AN ACID TEST 

WHEN the chemist speaks of a "test," he 
means "a procedure or reaction employed 
to recognize or distinguish any particular 
substance or constituent of a compound." Thus 
there is, for instance, the iodine test for starch, and 
there is the acid test for gold. 

This latter phrase, "the acid test," is frequently 
employed in a figurative sense in connection with 
character. "Yes, he is all right," the remark may 
be heard; "the acid test was applied to him, and 
he came out pure gold." 

A merchant determined to apply an acid test to 
one of the young men in his employ. For some 
time it had been known in the establishment that 
there was to be a promotion to a position of unusual 
responsibility. A dozen employes thought long- 
ingly of the tempting position; half as many felt 
they had a good chance to win. It was generally 
agreed, however, that there were but two real 
possibilities. One of these, Lawton, was a quiet, 
unassuming young man who had been doing good 
work for his employer for more than five years. 
"But I fear he doesn't stand as much of a show as 
Nelson," an interested bystander said; "he isn't 
self-assertive enough. He is conscientious, capable 
and dependable, but he doesn't take pains to im- 
press himself on the rest of us as he should. Nelson 
never allows us to forget his presence and his worth. 
Lawton needs to be more like him. To tell the 

"3 



114 THE VICTORY LIFE 

truth, though, there isn't much choice between 
them. I am glad I don't have to make the difficult 
decision/' 

The merchant also found the choice difficult. 
At length lie realized that the two were so evenly- 
matched that he must have additional light before 
he could decide between them. He resolved to 
make a character test. He wondered how he was 
to do this, until he learned that Lawton and Nelson, 
who had been good friends, were growing apart. 
After a time he decided that the fault was Nelson's, 
for Nelson was saying bitter things about Lawton, 
and Lawton was saying nothing about Nelson. 
So far, he thought, Lawton was proving himself the 
better man. But here was an opportunity for a fur- 
ther test of both men. 

One day the merchant went to Nelson. "What 
do you think of Lawton's fitness for more respon- 
sible service, Nelson?" he asked. The reply came 
instantly, "I fear he could not give satisfaction; 
he is good as far as he goes, but he cannot go very 
far." 

Next Lawton was approached, and to him was 
put the same question as to Nelson. After a mo- 
ment's hesitation the answer was made: "I think 
well of him. I feel sure he has ability for many 
things for which he has not been tested." 

It is told of President Hayes that he once recom- 
mended for a position a man who had talked out- 
rageously about him. "How could you do it?" 
asked a friend. "Do you know what that man 
thinks about you?" "Oh, yes," answered Hayes, 
"but they asked me what I thought of him, not his 
opinion of me." 

Of course it is difficult to be fair in expressing our 
opinion of one who has seemed to fail in fairness to 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS II5 

us. Yet a critical world expects just this of a 
man — that his personal judgment shall be inde- 
pendent of his personal feeling. Can we demand 
less of ourselves? And can we expect to know 
victory and find complete satisfaction in life until 
the expectation and the demand are satisfied? 



XXXII 
THE BEAUTY OF FORGIVENESS 

HE hates like a cousin/' is a proverb of the 
Afghans, among whom, as a missionary says, 
man's nearest relations are often his deadliest 
enemies. 

But a change is slowly coming over some of 
these very Afghans, in consequence of the life and 
example of Christian men and women. One of 
the most telling influences is the Conolly Bed in 
the Bukhara Mission Hospital, founded and main- 
tained as a memorial to Captain Conolly who, with 
another British officer, went to Afghanistan in 1841, 
on a mission of peace from his government. These 
officers were imprisoned and brutally treated for six 
months. Then they were placed by the side of their 
own graves and put to death. 

Captain Conolly's sister thought she would like 
to have her revenge; so she founded the bed. The 
Afghan patients who come to the hospital are told 
the story, and many of them go away thoughtful 
because of the revelation that there is something 
better than hatred and vengeance. 

Readers of the biography of a man of some fame 
find themselves warming to him when they read a 
letter which he sent to a young woman who had 
sought to injure him: 

"You have not done me any harm, and have not 
offended me at all. I never knew anything about 
the writings; and if I had, I should have been con- 
cerned merely for you, because you were the one 

116 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS II7 

such a thing would injure, not I. The doer of 
wrong, and not the sufferer, is the one to be laughed 
at or pitied. I assure you I have never had and 
never shall have any feelings toward you but those 
of kindness and good-will." 

A delightful story of forgiveness has been told 
by a gifted writer of fiction. A woman took a little 
girl into her home, to rear as her own. She loved 
the little girl, but she was grieved because of the 
feeling that the child, who had a remarkable appre- 
ciation of the beautiful, thought her plain and 
commonplace. Madonna pictures, especially, ap- 
pealed to the little girl; she was always tracing in 
these resemblances to people she knew — never, 
however, to the woman who had adopted her. The 
day came when the child broke the woman's most 
treasured possession. At once she told what she 
had done and waited for some terrible punishment. 
To her amazement, the woman's arms were held out 
to her. She wondered a moment how any one could 
be so forgiving. Then she looked into the face 
bending over her and said, "I know now why none 
of the artist men have ever painted anybody like 
you; they just couldn't. You're too beautiful." 

That was fiction true to life. Forgiveness always 
beautifies the life of the one* who forgives, as it 
glorifies the life of the one who receives forgiveness. 

There was a day when a prophet said of Jesus, 
" When we see Him, there is no beauty that we should 
desire Him." That is the judgment of those who 
refuse to become acquainted with Him. But when 
they study His life they see that there is no beauty 
like that of Him who said, "Father, forgive them, 
for they know not what they do." 

And those who learn to forgive any who have 
wronged them share in His transfiguring beauty. 



XXXIII 
I "AS YE FORGIVE" 

ONE of the most trying things Christ asks of 
His followers is to forgive their enemies, 
laying aside all grudges, and treating them 
as if nothing wrong had happened. This is the 
way God forgives. He puts man's sins behind His 
back. He removes them as far as the East is from 
the West. He hides them in the depths of the sea. 
He remembers them no more. These are His own 
statements concerning the manner of His forgiveness. 

Jesus taught that there can be no victory to the 
man who is unwilling to forgive others as God 
forgives him. This lesson was taught once to 
Peter, who had associated with Christ for a long 
time, had heard his words, had learned from Him 
the model prayer in which is the petition, "And 
forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." 
Yet, on top of all this, he asked the question, "Lord, 
how often shall my brother sin against me, and I 
forgive him? until seven times?" He had learned 
a little — he was ready to forgive, and he was ready 
to forgive more than once, but he felt that there 
should be a limit to his patience. His limit was the 
perfect number, seven; surely this would indicate 
all that could be asked. 

Jesus' answer was emphatic. Seven times was 
not enough; the wronged man must be ready to 
forgive until seventy times seven, or an infinite 
number of times. Jesus wished His followers to 
learn once for all that they are to pay no more heed 

118 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS II9 

to the number of times forgiveness becomes necessary 
than does God Himself. 

But there are those who try to get the best out of 
life without being ready to forgive those who 
have wronged them. To them God makes a tremen- 
dous statement: "If ye forgive men their trespasses, 
your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But 
if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will 
your Father forgive your trespasses." 

There is crying need for men and women to learn 
the lesson Christ taught. Somehow people who are 
warm and tender and approachable in all other 
ways are like adamant when it comes to a question 
of forgiving an injury. This is one reason for so 
much unrest. How can there be peace in the 
heart that is unwilling to be like the forgiving God 
of peace ? 



XXXIV 
PEACE THROUGH FORGIVENESS 

DR. JACOB CHAMBERLAIN, the veteran 
missionary to India, has told of seeing an 
old man near a native shrine. Slowly, with 
beads in hand, he went about the shrine reciting 
his prayers and falling prostrate. Asked what he 
sought by these exercises, he answered, 

"Oh, sirs, I am seeking to get rid of the burden of 
sin. All my life I have been seeking it, but each 
effort that I make is as unsuccessful as the one 
before. My pilgrimages, penances and tears have 
been in vain. The Ganges water washed the foul- 
ness from my skin, not the foulness from my soul. 
And now my life is almost gone; my hair is thin and 
white, my eyes are dim, my teeth are gone, my 
cheeks are sunken, my body is wasted; and yet the 
burden of sin is just as heavy as when, a young man, 
I started in pursuit of deliverance. Oh, sirs, does 
your Veda tell you how I can get rid of this burden 
of sin and be at peace? Our Veda does not tell us 
how." 

Many of the Hindoos have learned to sing: 

'Tis not by roaming deserts wild, nor gazing at the 

sky; 
9 Tis not by bathing in the stream nor pilgrimage to 

shrine; 
But thine own heart must thou make pure, and then, 

and then alone, 
Shalt thou see Him no eye hath kenned, shalt thou 

behold thy King. 

120 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS 121 

Yet they cannot make their own hearts pure, 
because they have not taken God's way. 

The consciousness of sin is universal. The burden 
weighs men down. They may deny this, declaring 
that their moral lives are irreproachable; but deep 
down in their hearts they know that this is not 
true. The consciousness of sin takes the joy out 
of life. Men want to live true lives, perhaps, but 
they find they cannot, alone. "The good that I 
would I do not, and the evil that I would not, that 
I do," is their despairing thought. 

The first temptation is to keep still about sin, 
as if it were possible to forget about it or to blind 
the eyes of our fellow-men and of God himself to 
its existence. The Psalmist tried this, but in vain. 
He had to speak. His sins of thought and word 
and deed compelled him to make confession. His 
experience has been duplicated in thousands of 
lives. "No man need ever know about it, if you 
keep still," said one who had committed a wrong. 
"I will say nothing," was the answer, "but the 
story will become known. You will tell it your- 
self." So it proved; the burdened conscience 
demanded the relief of confession. Officers of the 
law count on this trait of human nature; frequently 
they are able to bring criminals to justice who 
would never have been discovered but for their 
own voluntary confession. 

When the Psalmist turned humbly and frankly 
to God, confessing his sin and pleading for forgive- 
ness, what a difference there was! At once he knew 
that his sin was forgiven, that God had pardoned hi£ 
iniquity. He had learned by experience that "he 
that covereth his sins shall not prosper." When, 
however, it is God that covers the sins, the sinner 
goes on his way with joy and gladness. 



122 THE VICTORY LIFE 

One thing must be remembered, however, if the 
confession of sin is to bring peace: all sin must be 
confessed. Half-measures in dealing with sin can 
no more succeed than half-measures in dealing with 
disease. " Forgive all my sins," must be the cry 
of the man who is to receive God's blessing. 

Then what? Has the slate been cleaned in order 
that another score may be run up? Is forgiveness 
sought in order that fresh sins may be committed, 
these in their turn to make way for still others? 
That is not the way to find peace. There must be 
a new resolve. The "Please forgive me" must be 
followed by "HI try not to do it again." When 
the penitent seeks God, the purpose must be not 
only to get clean, but to keep clean. 



XXXV 

KNOWING THE LOVE OF GOD 

A MISSIONARY has told of a converted 
Buddhist in India who was reading the 
third chapter of the first epistle of John 
with his instructor. Looking at the first verse, 
reverently he spoke the words, "Behold, what 
manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us 
that we should be allowed to kiss His feet." His 
teacher corrected him, but the Hindoo insisted on 
his own rendering; and thus he gave his reason: 
"It cannot be ' Behold what manner of love the * 
Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be 
called the children of God'; children it cannot be — 
that is too much — too high — that had never 
entered into a broken heart." 

No, but it is in God's heart to call men His sons. 
It is not a matter of their first calling themselves 
so; it is God the Father Himself who has called 
them His sons, has chosen them for His own. 

The world needs more of the faith of the little 
girl who was reading with her mother in the New 
Testament. This was one of the verses of the 
chapter: "For God so loved the world, that He 
gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
lieveth in Him should not perish, but have eternal 
life." Stopping for a moment in the reading, 
the mother asked, "Don't you think it is very 
wonderful?" The child, looking surprised, replied, 
"No." The mother, somewhat astonished, repeated 
the question, to which the little daughter replied, 

123 



124 THE VICTORY LIFE 

"Why, no, mamma, it would be wonderful if it 
were anybody else, but it is just like God." 

That man is victorious who has learned to believe 
in God as simply as that child. Instead of this, 
so many people are actually afraid of Him. They 
dread to think of Him. They believe that there is 
a God and that Christ is the Son of God. But 
their belief is like the belief of which Christ said, 
"The devils believe — and tremble." Such belief 
does not lead to keeping His commandments. The 
faith that saves does not inspire fear; it casts it 
out. As John says in his first epistle (chapter 4, 
verse 18), "There is no fear in love, but perfect 
love casteth out fear." 

How do we know that we are sons of God ? how 
can we know? 

To answer just such questions John wrote the 
first letter that bears his name. His purpose is 
definitely stated in chapter 5, verse 13, thus: 
"These things have I written unto you, that ye may 
know that ye have eternal life, even unto you that 
believe on the name of the Son of God." 

The words "that ye may know" give John's 
object in a nutshell. The word "know" is the 
keynote of the epistle. This word appears thirty- 
one times in the five short chapters, less than four 
pages of the Bible. Thus it is the epistle for the 
man who would know the victory and peace that 
follow the certainty of God's forgiving love. 



XXXVI 

ANDREW JACKSON'S ROAD TO 
VICTORY 

FRED A. SMITH, the Young Men's Christian 
Association worker, was once speaking to a 
company of men in India. While he was 
talking he noticed one of his Mohammedan hearers 
who was much interested. From time to time this 
man would put his fingers in his ears in order to 
shut out the sound of words which, according to 
the teaching of his religion, he should not hear. 
But his face showed his eagerness; and sometimes 
he would forget to use his fingers. At the end of the 
talk he came to the speaker. "I can see yet the 
look of longing on his face as he began to speak," 
Mr. Smith has said. "Do you really believe Jesus 
Christ can forgive sins as you say, and that He can 
give peace to those borne down by the burden of 
their sins?" the man asked. "Indeed I do believe 
it," was the answer; "He can do just what he says." 
A moment the Mohammedan paused. Then he 
threw back his shoulders, and said, with an air of 
conviction, "Then He will conquer the world!" 
And with a sigh he turned and left the room. 

James Parton, in his biography of Andrew Jack- 
son, shows how the knowledge that Jesus Christ 
forgives sin, and action on that knowledge, changed 
the life of Jackson. 

Retiring from office, he had sought happiness and 
peace amid the quiet surroundings at his country 
home, The Hermitage, near Nashville. But retire- 

125 



126 THE VICTORY LIFE 

ment did not bring to him everything he sought. 
Long he tried to learn what was lacking. At last 
he succeeded. How he succeeded should be told in 
the words of his biographer. Two years after the 
close of his second term as President, Jackson was 
attending service at the little Presbyterian church 
not far from The Hermitage, his home, when Dr. 
Edgar, the pastor, preached. 

"The subject of the sermon was the interposition 
of Providence in the affairs of men, a subject in 
touch with the habitual tone of General Jackson's 
mind. The preacher spoke in detail of the perils 
which beset the life of man, and how often he is 
preserved from sickness and sudden death. Seeing 
General Jackson listening with rapt attention to 
his discourse, the eloquent preacher sketched the 
career of a man who, in addition to the ordinary 
dangers of human life, had encountered those of 
the wilderness, of war, and of keen political conflict; 
who had escaped the tomahawk of the savage, the 
attack of his country's enemies, the privations and 
fatigues of border warfare, and the aim of the 
assassin. 'How is it/ exclaimed the preacher, 'that 
a man endowed with reason and gifted with in- 
telligence can pass through such scenes as these 
unharmed, and not see the hand of God in his de- 
liverance?' While enlarging on this theme Dr. 
Edgar saw that his words were sinking deep into the 
general's heart, and he spoke with unusual animation 
and impressiveness. On the way home, General 
Jackson intercepted Dr. Edgar and begged the 
clergyman to go home with him. Dr. Edgar had a 
more urgent call, but he promised to see the general 
early the next morning. 

"The anxious man was obliged to be contented 
with this arrangement, and went home alone. He 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS 127 

retired to his apartment. He passed the evening 
and the greater part of the night in meditation, 
in reading, in conversation with his beloved daughter, 
in prayers. He was sorely distressed. Late at 
night, when his daughter left him, he was still 
agitated and sorrowful. What thoughts passed 
through his mind as he paced his room in the silence 
of the night, of what sins he repented, and what 
actions of his life he wished he had not done, no 
one knows, or will ever know. . . . 

"As the day was breaking, light seemed to dawn 
upon his troubled soul, and a great peace fell upon 
him. 

"To Dr. Edgar, who came to see him soon after 
sunrise, General Jackson told the joyful history of 
the night, and expressed a desire to be admitted 
into the church with his daughter that very morning. 
The usual questions concerning doctrine and ex- 
perience were satisfactorily answered by the candi- 
date. Then there was a pause in the conversation. 
The clergyman said at length, 

"' General, there is one more question which it is 
my duty to ask you. Can you forgive all your 
enemies ? ' 

"The question was evidently unexpected, and the 
candidate was silent for awhile. 

"'My political enemies/ said he, 'I can freely 
forgive; but as for those who abused me when I 
was serving my country in the field, and those who 
attacked me for serving my country — Doctor, that 
is a different case/ 

"The doctor assured him that it was not. No 
man could be received into a Christian church who 
did not cast out of his heart every enmity. It was 
a condition that was fundamental and indispensable. 

"After a considerable pause the candidate said 



128 THE VICTORY LIFE 

that he thought he could forgive all who had injured 
him, even those who had assailed him for what he 
had done for his country in the field. The clergy- 
man then consented to his sharing in the solemn 
ceremonial of the morning, and left the room to 
communicate the glad tidings to Mrs. Jackson. 
She hastened to the general's apartment. They 
rushed with tears into each other's arms, and re- 
mained long in a fond and silent embrace. 

"The Hermitage church was crowded to the 
utmost of its small capacity; the very windows were 
darkened with the eager faces of the servants. 
After the usual services, the general rose to make 
the required public declaration of his concurrence 
with the doctrines, and his resolve to obey the 
precepts, of the church. He leaned heavily upon 
his stick with both hands; tears rolled down his 
cheeks. His daughter, the fair young matron, 
stood beside him. Amid silence the most profound, 
the general answered the questions proposed to 
him. Then he was formally pronounced a member 
of the church. 

"From this time to the end of his life General 
Jackson spent most of his leisure hours in reading 
the Bible, Bible commentaries, and the hymn- 
book, which last he always pronounced in the old- 
fashioned way, hime book. The work known as 
'Scott's Bible' was his chief delight; he read it 
through twice before he died. Nightly he read 
prayers in the presence of his family and household 
servants. But there has been published a descrip- 
tion of the family worship at The Hermitage which 
represents the general as delivering an extempore 
prayer. 

"The Hermitage church, after the death of Mrs. 
Jackson and the general's removal to Washington, 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS I29 

had not been able to maintain itself; but the event 
which we have just related caused it to be reorgan- 
ized. At one of the first meetings of the resurrected 
church, General Jackson was nominated a 'ruling 
elder/ 

'"No/ he said, 'the Bible says, "Be not hasty in 
laying on of hands." I am too young in the church 
for such an office. My countrymen have given me 
high honors, but I should esteem the office of ruling 
elder in the Church of Christ a far higher honor 
than any I have ever received/" 

And in quiet, unostentatious service the hero of 
New Orleans found throughout the remainder of 
his life the peace he had sought so long. 



XXXVII 
THE VICTORY OF LOVE 

HAWTHORNE has imagined the race of man 
destroyed in a day. The world remains the 
same: houses, public buildings, cities, farms, 
are just as man left them when the summons came 
to him. A new Adam and Eve are sent to the 
earth with no knowledge of their predecessors. 
This knowledge must be gained by observation and 
conjecture. 

Fresh from God's hand, and so with no thoughts 
of anything but his handiwork, they are oppressed 
except when in the open fields with the blue sky 
and the warm sun above them. They are con- 
strained, however, to leave the green fields and the 
pleasant forests on a tour of investigation. Stores 
and houses are searched and their wonder is aroused. 
What a strange race must have been! 

They press on in their explorations, hesitate for 
a moment when they reach a grim and gloomy 
building, then enter in spite of their disgust. The 
building had been a prison. "The jailer has left 
his post at the summons of a stronger authority than 
the sheriff's. The jail, like the whole earth, is now 
a solitude. But here are the narrow cells. In- 
scriptions appear on the walls, scribbled with a 
pencil or scratched with a rusty nail; brief words of 
agony, perhaps, or guilt's desperate defiance to the 
world, or merely a record of a date." A gallows 
stares the explorers in the face; the noose is hanging 

130 



THE WAY OF FORGIVENESS 131 

in its place, and though they know not the purpose 
of the instrument a shudder as of a chill passes over 
them. They cannot tell what it is or why it should 
affect them so; but the truth is that they have 
for the first time come face to face with sin. The 
prison was a hospital for the treatment of sin. The 
patients who were taken there were sick with the 
same disease as the jailers and judges who attempted 
to be their physicians. But because the one set of 
men had concealed the sin in their breasts, while 
others had suffered it to escape from hiding, the 
judges were commissioned by the state to imprison 
the men who could not imprison their sins. 

"In the course of the world's lifetime every remedy 
had been tried except the single one — the flower 
that grew in heaven, and was sovereign to all the 
miseries of earth. Man never had attempted to 
cure sin by love. But God — " 

Even before the day when man first chose to sin 
it was God's purpose to redeem the world by 
love. He planned to send His own Son into the 
world to live and die for their salvation. That day 
came when the Roman found no consolation in his 
philosophy, or in his riches; his only hope was in 
death, which to him meant total annihilation. 
This was the day when 

"On that hard pagan world disgust 
And secret loathing fell; 
Deep weariness and sated lust 
Made human life a bell" 

Pliny the Younger, a Roman author, cried out in 
his agony, 

"Give me some fresh comfort, great and strong, 
such as I have never yet heard or read. Everything 
that I have read or heard comes back now to my 



I32 THE VICTORY LIFE 

V 

memory, but my sorrow is too great to be reached 
by it." 

At last the time came for the carrying out of 
God's plan. Then all history centered on one day; 
one little town became the most important spot in 
the world. The town was Bethlehem, where Jesus 
was born; the day was the day of his birth. Perhaps 
Herod, the Roman governor of Palestine, had never 
visited that town. Had he been there that day; 
had he seen the Babe in its poverty, he would have 
scorned the Child. But selfish, scheming Herod, 
who wished to make for himself a place and a name, 
is remembered for one thing: it was during his reign 
that Jesus was born. Caesar, Emperor of Rome, 
gave himself little concern about Palestine, that 
far-away corner of his empire; but the events of 
Caesar's reign which he sought to have dated by 
his own life have been known in history according 
to their relation to the birthday of that Babe. It 
was the day of days, the day toward which all days 
were pointing, the day from which all days have 
come. An angel from heaven, with the glory of the 
Lord shining about him, brought the glad tidings 
that a Saviour was born. A chorus of angels listened 
to the words, then burst into song: 

"Glory to God in the highest. 
On earth peace, good will to men." 

The song of the angels has echoed through the 
years. Happiness is increased by its tones, tears 
are dried, sorrow is soothed and victory is won. 
For the message from Bethlehem is the thought of 
God Himself. "God so loved the world that He 
gave His only-begotten Son!" 



GOING TO THE SOURCE 



ROAD-MATES 

From deepest depths, O Lord, I cry to thee. 

"My love runs quick to your necessity" 
I am bereft; my soul is sick with loss. 

"Dear one, I know. My heart broke on the cross." 
What most I loved is gone. I walk alone. 

"My love shall more than fill his place, my own" 
The burden is too great for me to bear. 

"Not when Vm here to take an equal share" 
The road is long, and very wearisome. 

"Just on in front I see the light of home" 
The night is black; I fear to go astray. 

"Hold My hand fast, Vll lead you all the way" 
My eyes are dim, with weeping all the night. 

"With one soft kiss I will restore your sight" 
And Thou wilt do all this for me? — for me? 

"For this I came — to bear you company " 

— John Oxenham, in "All's Well/ 



XXXVIII 
THE ROAD TO GOD 

THERE are three roads a man can travel when 
he's been struck as I've been hit," said a 
famous man, after receiving the staggering 
word that his son had died in battle. "There is the 
road to despair, the road to drink, and the road to 
God. I've chosen the road to God." 

That is why the man is able to be as cheerful as 
ever, smiling on his friends, making their lives glad. 
He knows that those who keep company with God 
have a right to count on the fulfillment of Christ's 
promise to be with His own and to sustain them. 

The story of this man was told in a camp of Eng- 
lish soldiers. One of the men, who had tried in vain 
to satisfy the longings that had made him restless, 
became thoughtful. Finally he said, "He is right. 
I tried the road to despair; I tried the road to drink; 
now I'm on the road to God." And on that road 
he found what before he had sought in vain. 

From the battle-front in France came other 
testimonies of like nature. One told of an 
American Red Cross nurse. "When she arrived in 
France, she went to the American hospital. There 
she saw sights so appalling that they might shake 
the sanity of the sanest mind. But she knew God. 
She called to Him and He answered her call. He 
brought her strength as He had brought strength to 
so many women of France. She consoled and 
comforted all wherever she moved. Many a soldier 
blessed the wound that brought him to her ward, 

135 



I36 THE VICTORY LIFE 

and prayed that it might heal slowly. In those 
wards of carnage, something came into her life 
which made her more beautiful than she had ever 
been." 

The mother of five sons learned that the names 
of four of them, as well as of her husband, were on 
the nation's roll of honor; they had died in the 
trenches. "I thought she would be broken-hearted," 
said one who visited her at the time, "and I went out 
to comfort her. She greeted me with a calm face 
and, in response to my words of sympathy, she 
said: 'It is well. It is the will of the good God. 
I had five sons and my one good man. They were 
good boys. I loved them. I gave four sons and 
their father to France. It is well. I have the one 
son left. It is well/" 

Then came word that the fifth son also was dead. 
Another friend sought to comfort her. Again came 
the calm message: "It is the will of the good God. 
It is well." 

In "On the Trail of the Immigrant" this incident 
is related. "Two old, genteel-looking people always 
stood out from the coarse mass because they kept 
clean in spite of the odds against them in the steerage, 
and because they were always together. Up and 
down the slippery stairs they went, like two lovers. 
Even seasickness did not separate them, and when 
the sun shone they were on deck, solemnly smiling 
back to heaven. They had left their all in America. 
Their children were sleeping in the strange soil. 
And now they were going back to the little town in 
Austria from which they had gone thirty-seven 
years before. They felt too rich in one another to 
rail against their fate, and their complaint was as 
gentle as their pain was deep. They had come to 
America full, and now they were going home empty; 



GOING TO THE SOURCE I37 

three sons and two daughters they had lost, and 
childless they were going back. But 'the Lord had 
given, and the Lord had taken away/ and they 
blessed the name of the Lord." 

But why should the calm serenity of these men 
and women in the midst of their pain, desolation, 
and disaster excite comment? They had taken the 
road to God, and He had given them victory. 



XXXIX 
STUDYING THE MESSAGE 

MANY years ago, on the shores of the Sea of 
Azov, there was a Jewish boy whose curiosity 
was aroused by a story told of Tolstoi. 
One day when the great Russian was traveling in 
the Caucasus, he made a speech through an inter- 
preter to a Tartar tribe. He spoke of Napoleon 
and of other famous generals. After he had con- 
cluded his address a Tartar leader said to him, 
"But you did not tell of the greatest of all, of a 
man so great that he forgave the crimes of his enemy. 
Will you tell us about him? The country he lived 
in is called America. His name was Lincoln. " 

Years passed before the Jew heard more of the 
great American. A writer in The Outlook has 
quoted his words: 

"A sailor friend returned from a voyage bringing 
a wonderful book in English. 'It contains/ he told 
us, 'things so true and so beautiful that they would 
bring tears to your eyes if you could read them/ 
So some pages were translated and hectographed 
for circulation among these friends. The book — 
it was Raynal's 'Life, Speeches and Public Services 
of Abraham Lincoln/ And so I came to your 
America, to the land of the man whose greatness of 
soul had reached the Sea of Azov. The speeches? 
Oh, I learned them long ago." 

After a time he found employment in a little 
basement electrical shop. While he worked he took 
delight in thinking of the great sayings of the man 

138 



GOING TO THE SOURCE I39 

who lifted a people from slavery to freedom, who 
showed to a nation the way from bitterness to 
concord. But he wanted to read daily the messages 
that were already graven on his mind. Yet how 
was he to find the time when the struggle to make 
a living kept him occupied from early morning 
until late at night? 

He found the way. Many times a day, at the 
telephone, he had moments of waiting. So he 
fastened on the wall by the telephone the Gettysburg 
speech and the second inaugural. "When I wait 
for a telephone call my eye goes over them," he 
said to a visitor who noted how grimy and old they 
looked. "And do you know, I always find some- 
thing new and something fine — like a man who 
keeps his telescope turned all the time at one point 
in the heavens and ends by discovering a new star." 

We have access to messages as much greater than 
Lincoln's words as the Author of them is greater 
than Lincoln. The electrician could repeat the 
words of two of Lincoln's speeches, yet he felt it 
worth while to look at them daily, for he always 
found something new in them. In like manner 
earnest Christians have sought to saturate them- 
selves with the Word, in spite of seeming lack of 
opportunity. A farmer was accustomed to fasten 
a page of his New Testament to the plough handles, 
that he might glance at the words when he reached 
the end of the furrow and so have something to 
think of while he ploughed the next furrow. A 
housewife placed a selection of Scripture verses 
on the wall above the kitchen sink, that she might 
do likewise while she was washing the dishes. 

There is no doubt as to the result of such brooding 
on the Word. The Psalmist tells us, "Great peace 
have they that love Thy law." And Jesus said to 



140 THE VICTORY LIFE 

His disciples, "These things have I spoken unto 
you, that in Me ye might have peace. In the 
world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good 
cheer; I have overcome the world. " It is im- 
possible to be in Christ, and so be sure of receiving 
the promised victory, unless we saturate ourselves 
with His words so that His words abide in us. 



XL 
'A SOLDIER'S VICTORY 

I AM happy and at peace because I know that 
He is here, and watches over all His own." 
These were the words of a soldier of 
France, who asked to be allowed to fight the 
battles of his fatherland, although his time to take 
his place in the ranks was not due for another year. 
He could not wait to begin the service which he 
felt that he, as a Christian, was called upon to 
render. 

In his letters home — some of which have been 
published under the title, "For France and the 
Faith" — he told his belief that, when entering 
the army, "one must immediately take a positive 
attitude to show what he is: a Christian." 

He was true to his purpose, not only by spoken 
word but by expression and action. Wherever he 
went he was a source of wonder to his comrades. 
One of these, a simple peasant, watched him, heard 
him humming a bit of Beethoven, and learned to 
whistle what the Christian hummed; and the act 
gave him courage. Officers as well as enlisted men 
were moved by his calmness. One night, just 
before a battle, the major and the soldier prayed 
together, and the peace of the young man who knew 
that "our Father who is good certainly can protect 
His child," became the possession of the officer. 

Just before leaving for the front, the soldier 
wrote, "There is also and always that peace which 
passeth all understanding and which He has given 

141 



142 THE VICTORY LIFE 

me." This assurance of his could not be shaken; 
his expression of it was positive. "I know, with an 
unchangeable knowledge and invincible confidence, 
that the basis of my faith — God our Father, Christ 
risen and living, man subjected to the law of the 
duty to love — is indestructible, that it is firmly 
founded upon the rock." 

Both the measure and the character of his Christian 
life were made evident in a letter he wrote home 
one Sunday: 

"For me the military life has simplified everything. 
Things have taken on their true values and full 
significance. Some difficulties which seemed insur- 
mountable have disappeared. Intellectual sacrifices 
which I thought I could never accept have taken 
place almost of themselves, without a pang. And 
there results a new vitality, a desire for intense 
action. And then, there is always peace. How- 
ever, I fear this peace both for myself and for those 
I love, because too often it is only human. By 
this I mean that it is weakness and resignation, 
in place of being the full consciousness of a positive 
duty and a real force. And I often pray as follows 
for myself and for those I love: 

"'Lord, our God, our loving Father, stir up our 
souls in order that they may not be like stagnant 
waters. Do not permit us to sleep in a cowardly 
security, in a lifeless calm, believing that it is peace. 
On the other hand, give our hearts the power to 
suffer intensely in communion with all grief, to revolt 
against all injustice, to be thrilled by the appeal of 
every noble and holy cause. Lord, our Christ, 
Thy Son, suffered. He wept over the death of His 
friend. He wept over Thy rebellious people. He 
wept over His work which threatened to end with 
His earthly life. But He lived so intensely and so 



GOING TO THE SOURCE I43 

humanly that He was able to say to us men, "I am 
the life." Lord, make our hearts alive. Then 
will Thy peace descend upon them, not as the snow 
which benumbs and freezes, but as the warmth of 
the sun which revives the sap in the very veins of 
the earth. O Lord, may Thy peace be with us; 
Thy peace and not the peace of men. Amen/" 

Peace like that persists. It persisted in the case 
of the soldier. Four days before the attack which 
ended his service as a soldier on earth, he wrote a 
message which was later found in his pocket: 

"Know that at the moment of departure, looking 
steadfastly within, I believe that I can say without 
arrogance and also without false shame that 'I 
have fought the good fight, I have finished the 
course, I have kept the faith/ and I would that all 
my friends, all those who are every moment with 
me and whose hearts beat with mine, could repeat 
the words of our hope, 'Because I live, ye shall live 
also/" 

And so, in quietness and confidence, he went out 
to the death that was the gateway to a larger life. 



XLI 
THE ROAD TO VICTORY 

A FEW years ago a young man was taking a 
bicycle tour through Scotland. It was not 
always easy to follow the roads. Turns and 
cross-roads were frequent. Often it was necessary 
to ask for other guidance than that furnished by 
the route book. Sometimes the directions given in 
answer to inquiries were puzzling because of the 
multiplicity of details. He was told to turn to the 
right here, to the left there, to take the third road 
to the south after crossing the second main road 
beyond him, and so on, till he was so confused that 
there was danger of forgetting even the first turning. 
But once a man told him how to proceed for two or 
three miles, and added: 

"I sha'n't burden you with any more. That is as 
much as you can remember. When you reach the 
point to which I have directed you, ask at the black- 
smith's shop for further directions." 

Often the young man has thought of that stranger's 
words when reading of Christ's dealings with His 
apostles. He told them many things about Himself 
and His mission in the world, about themselves and 
their duties to the world and to Him. As He 
talked to them He was carefully watching to see 
how well they understood. When they could 
receive no more, He stopped short. "I have yet 
many things to say unto you," He added, "but ye 
cannot bear them now." Then He promised that 
these things should be revealed to them in due 

144 



GOING TO THE SOURCE I45 

time. "Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth, is 
come, He will guide you into all truth." 

Christ pursues the same progressive method of 
revelation with His children to-day. He does not 
show us everything at once. He does not cumber 
our minds with so many details that we are dis- 
tressed, but He gradually reveals to us what He 
desires us to know. Truth follows truth, event 
follows event — not too rapidly, not too slowly, 
but just as we are able to bear them. Each truth 
and each event is planned by Him as a stepping- 
stone, by means of which we are to be prepared for 
what follows. 

What an answer to our longing to know what the 
future has in store for us! A knowledge of our 
future would overwhelm us; so God is revealing 
that future day by day, as He sees we are ready for 
it. We must just ask Him for directions every day 
and every hour, and await His revelations in the 
trust which sings: 

"/ do not ask to see 
The distant scene — one step enough for me" 

In His method Christ knew how to warn, how to 
woo, how to win. He studied his hearers, just as 
we must study those to whom we go, varying our 
methods according to their needs. He taught by 
example, as well as by precept, as, for instance, 
when he gave the lesson in humility by washing His 
disciples' feet. 

How shall we hear the voice of Christ? Shall 
we follow the example of the office boy, who, in- 
structed by his employer to listen for a signal from 
his room, at once began to be so occupied with his 
own noisy performances that the signal could not 
be heard? Or shall we follow the example of Mary, 



I46 THE VICTORY LIFE 

who delighted to sit at the feet of Jesus ? We can 
sit at His feet by reading His Word every morning, 
lifting our hearts in prayer, remembering all the 
day long the message we have read, and at night 
telling Him all about the events of the day and 
asking His judgment upon them. Thus, day by 
day, will His will become clearer to us. 



XLII 
HOW COULD HE DO IT? 

WHY does full consecration to Christ seem 
impossible to so many people? They 
know what things they ought to do for 
Him, but they say, "I cannot do this, and it is of no 
use to try/' Yet they admire the man or woman 
who finds this possible. Thus a traveler admired a 
missionary who was about to return to Africa when, 
in reply to the question, "When shall we meet 
again?" the missionary said, "Never again on earth. 
My wife is waiting for me at the Cape. When we 
go in this time it will be never to come out again. 
I am going back to my people to stay." But the 
traveler thought, "How can he do it? How can he 
smile as he speaks of going into the heart of Africa 
for life?" The answer is simple. Because the 
missionary was living daily in the spirit of the 
words written on a fly-leaf in his New Testament: 

U I cannot do it alone. 

The waves run fast and high. 
And the fogs close chill around: 

The light goes out in the sky. 
But I know that we two 

Shall win in the end — Jesus and I. 

"Coward and wayward and weak 
I change with the changing sky. 
To-day so safe and brave, 

To-morrow too weak to fly. 
But He never gives in, 

So we two shall win — Jesus and I" 
H7 



I48 THE VICTORY LIFE 

The missionary knew that God never asks one of 
His children to bear a burden that is too great for 
him; He Himself is ready to bear the heavy end of 
the load. This was the thought in the mind of an 
earnest woman who wrote to her suffering mother, 
"More pain? May it be more support, more grace, 
more tenderness from the God of all comfort, more 
and more! May we not expect the mores always 
to be in due proportion to each other ?" And why 
not? For this would be only counting on the 
assurance given by Paul, "My God shall supply 
every need of yours according to his riches in glory 
in Christ Jesus/' and on the promise of God spoken 
to Asher, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." 

A visitor to a battlefield in France told of two 
men. "One, about twenty-three years of age, lay 
on his back, his legs tensely doubled, elbows thrust 
back into the ground and fingers dug into the palms 
of his hands, eyes staring in terror and mouth wide 
open. I could not help carrying away with me the 
picture of fear," said the visitor, "and, I thought to 
myself, that man died a coward. Just alongside of 
him, resting on his left side, lay a giant stretched out 
easily, almost graceful in death. His two hands 
were laid together, palm to palm, in prayer. Be- 
tween them was a photograph. The look upon his 
face was calm and peaceful. The contrast of his 
figure with his neighbor's struck me. I noticed 
that a paper protruded from his partly opened blouse, 
and picked it up and read the heading, 'A Mighty 
Fortress is Our God.'" 



XLIII 
WHEN GOD LEADS 

AS they journeyed through the wilderness the 
children of Israel were not permitted to take 
one step without God's presence. The cloud 
went before them by day, and the fire went before 
them by night. When the fire or the cloud rested 
on the tabernacle, it was a sign that God meant the 
Israelites to wait. When the fire or the cloud was 
taken up from the Tabernacle, it was the sign that 
they were to move forward, following God where 
He went. Thus everything was ordered by God. 
At the command of Jehovah they journeyed; at 
the command of Jehovah they rested. When God 
said, "Stay/ 5 they were to stay until God said, 
"Go forward," no matter how long the delay. At 
even, in the morning, journeying or encamping, in 
holidays and workdays, they were to keep with 
God. 

How simple it all was! One is tempted to say 
on reading the record, "How I wish God would guide 
me as clearly." He does — when He is given the 
opportunity. When He is asked, He tells very 
plainly what one is to do, where he is to go, what 
he is to say. The Christian who says he has never 
experienced this unfailing guidance has reason to 
doubt, not God's fulfilment of His promise, but his 
own faithfulness. 

It is impossible for one to go thus where God 
leads unless he reads the book of directions He has 
given for the journey — the Bible. There is an 

149 



150 T ft E VICTORY I I F E 

answer there to all questions as to duty. These 
answers are not usually found by the one who opens 
the book at random, but by the humble Christian 
who reads, studies and meditates on the Word. 
"The opening of Thy words giveth light," is a 
promise that never fails. 

Prayer, too, is a necessity to the Christian who 
would have God lead him — prayer in the closet, 
prayer at the family altar, prayer of thanksgiving 
at the table, prayer with and for others, prayer in 
the midst of the day's business, prayer in God's 
house, prayer always. 

There are Christians who are ashamed to be 
known as those who seek God's guidance. But all 
should be proud to be found in the company of 
Lincoln, who, in the darkest hour of the Republic, 
"wrapped his face in his mantle and went out into 
the night to ask a man of God to pray with and for 
him." All should learn a lesson from General 
"Chinese" Gordon, who was accustomed to put his 
handkerchief at the opening of his tent when he 
prayed, and so told the world that he was alone 
with God and must not be disturbed. . , 

No one who seeks God's leading in these ways need 
ever worry. The one sure way to win our victory, 
to be at peace, is to be the friend of God, walking 
with Him, talking with Him, doing His work. 



XLIV 
"TAKE MY HAND!" 

A CHILD who was just learning to talk lived 
in a house by the side of a highway used 
daily by hundreds of automobiles. She had 
been told that she must never cross the road except 
in the company of some one old enough to care for 
her. She obeyed, literally and always; no one 
could persuade her to step from the curb until her 
hand was clasped tight in the hand of a responsible 
guide. Once her father called to her from the 
opposite side of the road, and urged her to come to 
him, but she stood still, holding out her arms, and 
saying, pleadingly, "Hand! hand!" 

We all have a difficult road to travel. Dangers 
are many, and they cannot all be seen. Fortunately 
we do not need to travel the road alone, at any 
time, or under any circumstances, for there is One 
who not only promises to be with us, but pleads 
with us to take His hand. He says, "I am Jehovah 
thy God . . . who leadeth thee by the way that 
thou shouldest go." 

Yet we persist in going alone. We say in excuse, 
perhaps, that the way is perfectly safe and plain; 
that no harm can come to us here. Or we allow 
ourselves to feel that we must not trouble God to 
guide us in our small affairs. As if anything that 
concerns one of His children could be too small for 
God's attention! Why should we dishonor Him by 
thinking He is like the man to whom the child, 
wishing to cross the road, asked for "Hand! hand!" 
only to meet with the rebuff, "No, child, I am not 



152 THE VICTORY LIFE 

going your way." God is always going our way, if 
it is the right way; and if it is the wrong way He 
will still offer to us His hand, saying, "This is the 
way, walk ye in it." 

When Mary Slessor was about to go into the 
interior of Africa, where no white man or woman 
would be near her, her friends told her she was 
going on a forlorn hope, and that no power on earth 
could subdue the Okoyong among whom she was 
planning to live, save a consul and a gunboat. But 
she smiled and went on with her preparations. She 
knew that her hand was clasped by the hand of her 
Leader. As she drew near to her destination she 
began to wonder if her friends had been right, after 
all. "A feeling of helplessness and fear came over 
her. What unseen perils might she not meet? . . . 
Her heart played the coward; she felt a desire to 
turn and flee. But she remembered that never in 
her life had God failed her. . . . Still the shrinking 
was there; she could not even move her lips in 
prayer; she could only look up and utter inwardly 
one appealing word, ' Father !'" 

That call was the appeal "Hand! hand!" and 
God gave her the reassuring pressure of His hand 
that enabled her to go to the dreaded people and 
spend long years among them, facing dangers 
undreamed of, and coming out victorious in many 
a conflict. 

Henry N. Cobb put in words the Christian's cry 
for the Father's help in daily difficulty, and the 
Father's gracious answer: 

" The way is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud 
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud 
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand 
Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand. 



GOING TO THE SOURCE 153 

And through the gloom 
Lead safely home 
Thy child." 

1 The way is dark, my child! but leads to light; 
I would not always have Thee walk by sight. 
My dealings now thou canst not understand. 
I meant it so; but I will take thy hand, 
And through the gloom 
Lead safely home 
My child." 



XLV 

PURITY AND VICTORY 

IT is absence from God that causes tumult. Those 
who see God, who live in constant touch with 
Him, who rejoice that He is round about them, 
that He is their close Companion always, have 
found the road to victory. And it is impossible to 
enjoy such intimate association with God unless the 
heart is pure; no one can walk with God, and at the 
same time be willing to make place in his life for the 
things that are impure. "Can two walk together 
except they be agreed ?" is one of the most searching 
questions ever written. The Book in which it is 
asked provides material for an answer: "He is of 
purer eyes than to behold evil, and he cannot look 
on iniquity." The lesson is impressed by the 
statement of Jesus, "Blessed are the pure in heart, 
for they shall see God." 

The story of Donald Hankey, the soldier-author 
of "The Student in Arms," is a commentary on 
both question and answer. His was a life of struggle 
and tumult until he found God; then he grew in 
likeness to his Friend until one who knew him well 
could say, "He is the most beautiful thing that ever 
happened." 

He was anything naturally but what he came to 
be. He spoke of himself as "timid, if not a coward." 
Once he spoke of an associate who was "a great 
slacker, and more timid, physically and morally, 
than even I." Yet there came a time when, in the 
trenches, he was able to write the chapters of one 

154 



GOIN r G TO THE SOURCE 1^5 

of his books, where, as one of his fellow-officers wrote, 
"none of us could concentrate sufficiently to write 
a letter." He had no thought of fear, because he 
was on intimate terms with God. 

His intimacy with God was both cause and result 
of the purity of thought and life for which he was 
remarkable. Of a fellow-student he once wrote, 
"He talks about things that I won't even think." 
When he was in training for his professional career 
he had, of course, many temptations to an unclean 
life, but he resisted all allurements. He did not 
speak of it as resistance; he said, "I could never 
bring myself to transgress, although I knew that 
transgression was the road to adventure. . . . 
However much I wished to be in the swim, my 
instinct for the moral and religious code of home 
was too strong for me. It required no self-control 
to prevent myself from slipping into blasphemy and 
filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should 
have had to violate my strongest instincts, and 
exercised a will to evil much stronger than any will 
power that I possessed at that time." In one of 
his essays he spoke of the secret of such purity: 
"The only men who are pure are those who are 
absorbed in some pursuit, or possessed by a great 
love, be it the love of clean, wholesome life, which 
is religion, or the love of a noble man, which is hero 
worship, or the love of a true woman." Later he 
expressed his views in stronger terms: "To be at 
our best, we must share God's viewpoint." 

Frequently he expressed the conviction that the 
man who keeps company with God need know no 
persistent turmoil. "It always seems as if peace 
and happiness, truth and justice, religion and 
purity, went with him wherever he goes," a friend 
said of him. Thus he was true to his ideals, for he 



156 THE VICTORY LIFE 

declared, "Greatness is founded on inward peace." 
By peace he did not mean freedom from all cares, 
anxieties and fears, but a way of escape from them, 
for "the call of Christ is a call to a life of external 
turmoil and internal peace. It is a call to take 
risks, to risk poverty, unpopularity, humiliation, 
death. It is a call to follow the way of the Cross. 
But the way of the Cross is also the way of peace, 
the peace that passeth understanding. . . . The 
whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got 
to find freedom and peace in trusting ourselves 
implicitly to the care of God. We have got to 
follow what we think right quite recklessly, and 
leave the issue to God." 

The same philosophy of life enabled him to inspire 
his men as they were about to go "over the top." 
He told them that if they were wounded they 
would be sent home, while if they were killed, there 
was nothing before them but the Resurrection. 

The outlook on life of this Christian soldier 
becomes still more plain when one reads of his 
statement of his reason for unselfishness: "To be 
the center of one's universe is misery; to have one's 
universe centered in God is the peace that passeth 
understanding. The boaster hides, and the egotist 
trembles. He whose care is for others forgets to be 
afraid." ^ 

So this Christian soldier walked with God. His 
heart was pure, and his life was victorious. 



LOOKING THROUGH GOD'S EYES 



'O God of Calvary, O Lord divine! 

Hold me and I am held! I cannot slide 

When pressing closely to thy bleeding side, 
Though men and devils 'gainst my soul combine! 

Nor shall I wander far, if in the veil 
Of Jesus' flesh my anchor has been cast; 

But I shall hear the welcome plaudit — i Hail, 
Beloved ! enter into rest ' at last." 



XLVI 
A CHANGE OF AMBITION 

IN 1844 Walter Carter was drawing saw-logs to 
the mill from the woods on the farm owned by 
his father in Saratoga County, New York, when 
he was given a letter from his brother Robert, a 
publisher in New York City. The letter informed 
him that he was needed in the New York store as 
an assistant. Would he come? 

He went. In the city he was attracted by the 
evidences of wealth on every hand. His brother 
was listed among the rich men of the city, and his 
respect for him was therefore increased. 

"I entered on my new life buoyant and full of 
hope/ 5 he wrote later. "I looked around me care- 
fully to study the secret of success. I found that 
wealth was the object of worship on the part of the 
multitude; and I studied the character and qualifica- 
tions of the successful men. ... I have good 
health, no bad habits, a good business education, 
a good social position, I am prudent and economical, 
and I cannot see why I cannot in due time become 
a millionaire." 

He longed to see John Jacob Astor, whom he had 
heard called the richest man in New York. But the 
opportunity did not come until one day when he 
was sent on an errand. That day he saw something 
that gave him pause. He has told of the experience. 

"I saw an old, feeble man coming out of a two- 
and-a-half-story brick house, men supporting him 
on either side. As he came down the steps to a 

159 



l60 THE VICTORY LIFE 

plain carriage, he missed his footing and came near 
falling, and, as he turned his face to the man on that 
side, he seemed so angry that I thought the posses- 
sion of nine millions would not compensate for the 
evil temper the face betrayed. On my way home- 
ward I had some solemn thoughts on the great 
purpose of life." 

He was still thinking when he returned to the 
store. There he found everybody busy, packing 
boxes to go by the Albany boat at six o'clock in the 
evening. "It was then five," he wrote in his biog- 
raphy, "and the porter was called to take the 
boxes down on his hand-cart to the boat. Irish 
Tom was a good old man, very poor; he was often 
run into by the drays and his cart broken, and a 
subscription would be taken up to pay for repairs. 
When at leisure he was fond of reading his New 
Testament, which was well thumbed. As I was the 
last clerk, I was sent to find Tom, who had disap- 
peared. At last I found him behind a pile of boxes, 
reading his New Testament. I called, 'Tom, 
hurry, hurry! Get ready for the boat/ He replied 
so cheerfully, so happily, 'Oh, Mr. Walter, just 
one moment; hear this one promise/ and he read 
one of the sweet promises of God's Word. That 
night in reviewing the day, I offered the prayer, 
* Rather, O Father, the position of old Tom than 
that of Mr. Astor.' I have never forgotten this 
scene, and have never repented of my choice. After 
all, Agur's prayer was a grand one: 'Give me neither 
poverty nor riches/" 

From that day it was Walter Carter's ruling 
ambition to be God's man, earning money for 
Him, spending money and spending himself in his 
Master's service. For fifty years he was known as 
a devoted Christian. 



XLVII 
THE HEROISM OF THREE 

WHAT is a hero? Longfellow asks the ques- 
tion, then owns his inability to answer, 
by saying, "Why, a hero is as much as one 
should say — a hero." The dictionary maker is 
braver; he declares that the characteristics of a 
hero are courage, bravery, fortitude, unselfishness, 
and says that a hero is "a prominent or central 
personage in any remarkable action or event." 

All will agree that the former part of the defini- 
tion is good. But how about the latter part? Must 
the hero be prominent? How shall the definition 
be revised after thinking of the following three men 
of whom the papers or books have told recently? 

The first of these was a young Scotch Presbyterian. 
When the Great War broke out his relatives dis- 
couraged him from going to the front; they thought 
he was not strong enough. But he thought, "A 
time comes in every man's life when he is asked if 
he will go forward, if he will make a venture, at the 
cost of a great change in his outward life." He de- 
cided that the time had come for him. That the 
decision was made at cost of severe struggle appeared 
when he wrote a few months later: "There was a 
time when I clung fondly to my personal existence, 
the petty me. But that stage is past. Nothing 
more shocked me than some one saying that my 
joining the army was a waste, a throwing myself 
away. That remark showed an utter blindness 
to the issues at stake." The last sketchy entry in 

161 



l62 THE VICTORY LIFE 

his diary told still more: "O glorious life! Cut off 
from books, the precious little Book. Never so 
free of care. Naturally a coward. The thing so 
huge. The little self." Only a little while after 
this was written he was killed while making an at- 
tack on a trench. The comrade who found his 
body said, "He just lay very peacefully, with a 
smile on his face." 

The second hero was a young business man who, 
after a deed of signal bravery on the field of battle, 
received the Cross of the Legion of Honor. He 
insisted that many of his comrades deserved the 
decoration more than he. Then he told of his 
purpose to "carry a sword across the barriers clean 
and bright." "The passion of self-sacrifice, the 
passion of Paul, of Christ" — so one who knew 
him said — "mastered him to the day of his trium- 
phant death on the field." 

Unlike these two men, David Yonan, a Persian 
nobleman who came to America to be educated 
for missionary work among his own people, lived 
and died in peaceful surroundings. At Davidson 
College, North Carolina, he was known as an un- 
selfish Christian, and everybody honored him. 
Just as he was ready to begin his life-work, a friend, 
swimming in the river, called for help. "I must 
save Fred's life," he shouted, then dashed into the 
water, from which he did not come out alive. His 
work was done. "Many of Yonan's friends and 
fellow-students are to-day leading lives that are 
higher and nobler because of his heroism and self- 
sacrifice," one who has written of his career has 
said. 

These three men were heroes before they died; 
they were Christian heroes. Because they lived 
like heroes they were ready to die like heroes. But 



THROUGH GOD'S EYES 163 

it is not necessary to die in order to be a hero, nor 
is the soldier the only hero. Every community is 
full of heroes who are daily sacrificing self for others 
in entire unconsciousness that there is anything 
remarkable in their lives. They are not famous. 
Perhaps no one has ever stopped to think of them 
as heroes. 

But there is One who knows all about them, and 
there will come their recognition day, when He 
shall say to them, "Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have 
done it unto Me." 



XLVIII 
DOING ONE'S BEST 

JESUS had the knack of saying things that hit 
the nail on the head; and His words were just 
as appropriate for the day in which we live as 
for the day when they were first spoken. This is 
not to be wondered at, for He knew the heart of 
man, and He knew the needs of the world, things 
that are the same in all ages. 

The familiar parable of the talents is a case in 
point. Jesus was telling the people how to make 
the most of themselves and their opportunities, 
the reward that waits for those who bend every 
effort to this end, and the scorn of the world for 
those who neglect their talents and fritter away 
their opportunities. The story is simple. A busi- 
ness man was going on a journey. On leaving home 
he called to him three employes. Having sized 
up the first as a shrewd financier and a faithful ser- 
vant, he said to him, "Here are five thousand dol- 
lars." (He said talents, not dollars, but if this 
business man had lived to-day and in America he 
would have said dollars.) He knew that while the 
second man was just as faithful, his ability was not 
so great, so he gave to him only two thousand 
dollars. To the third man, of whom he was just 
a little doubtful, he gave only one thousand dollars. 
To all he said, "I want you to make the best use 
you can of these sums. Report to me when I re- 
turn home." 

What a splendid opportunity these men had to 

164 



THROUGH GOD'S EYES 165 

show what was in them! They were handicapped 
by no instructions; they could use the money as 
they saw fit. But they must use it in the interests 
of the man for whom they were working. 

The first man saw a good business chance, and 
he took it. When the employer returned he was 
able to report that the money in his charge had 
been doubled. The man with two thousand dollars 
did as well in his venture. But the third man 
didn't even make an effort. "What's the use?" 
he thought. "My employer is a hard man. What 
right has he to expect that I'm going to run risks 
and work hard for his gain? I'll keep his money 
for him, of course. But catch me troubling myself 
for a rich man who has grown fat on what would 
be divided among us poor people if we had our 
rights. I krtow what I'll do: I'll just bury the money 
in the earth. It will be perfectly safe there, and 
the boss will have exactly what's coming to him 
and not one cent more." 

Then Jesus told of the return of the rich employer. 
The first and second employes proudly made re- 
port and received deserved praise for their faithful- 
ness and a promise that they should have the best 
that he could afford them. But the third man could 
only say, defiantly, in effect, "Here's your money. 
I've kept it safe in the earth for you. What are 
you going to do about it?" 

He found out. His employer not only left in the 
hands of those who had proved their ability and 
faithfulness the sums so well used, but he told them 
to go on increasing them and enjoying the power 
that came from their possession. Moreover, he 
acted as wise men continually act — he took away 
what the incompetent man had and gave it to the 
competent man. "For unto every one that hath 



l66 THE VICTORY LIFE 

shall be given, and he shall have abundance; but 
from him that hath not, even that which he hath 
shall be taken away." 

Jesus was not teaching that it is necessary to be 
sharp in the use of money. This idea was well 
contradicted by ex-Governor Hughes, of New York, 
when he said: 

"Don't follow the man who thinks it is American 
to be slick. The old way, the steady way, is the 
right way: put a little more in the measure than 
you need to give a good basketful of fruit, and don't 
simply have a little display on top of superficial 
attention and industry." The lesson Jesus designed 
to teach in the parable is that men are put in the 
world to make the most of themselves for his glory 
and for the benefit of their fellow-men. Sometimes 
this can be done by money-making, if the man of 
money knows how to use his money as a gift from 
God. Always it can be done by the use for others 
of the best we have. Our best may be very sim- 
ple, but if this is given freely, God will bless it. 

The papers told of the discharge of a cripple 
from a hospital. He had no money; one would 
think he had no talents. But he had a smile that 
endured in spite of his pain. As "Smiling Joe" 
he became known, and that perennial smile did a 
world of good to those who saw it. One writer, 
telling of this, said, "A happy smile keeps life so 
sweet." 

So many people make themselves miserable by 
thinking of the thing they can't do, to the utter 
ignoring of the thing they can do. But God does 
not ask us to do the things we can't do; he only 
asks that we do our best. And those who do their 
best find the victory that is promised to the burden- 
bearer who works with God. 



THROUGH GOD'S EYES 167 

There is often another startling result of doing 
our best, even when the thing we do is not the 
thing we wish to do: before we know it we are 
doing the very thing we longed for. A case in 
point is that of a missionary who died in Japan in 
191 5. When he graduated from the seminary he 
longed to go as a missionary. But he was not 
accepted by the Board of Foreign Missions be- 
cause of his weak heart. So he went to Japan as 
a teacher for the Government. He spent his spare 
time in doing missionary and evangelistic work, 
and was so successful that the missionaries at the 
station nearest him asked for his appointment by 
the Board. In 1905 the request was granted. 
For ten years he worked effectively. At the time 
of his death he was engaged in what has been called 
"the most complete and courageous scheme of 
city evangelization to be found in Japan." His 
three years as a Government teacher had equipped 
him for missionary work as nothing else could have 
done. 

Other men who work with singleness of heart in 
an unsought field may take courage. The tedious 
task of to-day should be the fruitful preparation for 
the glorious chosen service of to-morrow. 



XLIX 
HIS ROAD TO GOD 

BAYNARD RUSH HALL was one of the 
thousands of Easterners whom the hard 
times that followed the War of 1812 led to 
emigrate to the New Purchase, the territory in 
Indiana obtained by treaty with the Indians in 1818. 
The intensely interesting story of Mr. Hall's ex- 
periences on the journey and during the seven years 
in the Indiana wilderness has been told in "The 
New Purchase/' He showed himself "a young 
man who had eyes to see, with a cultured background, 
with a power to discriminate and to distinguish 
the significant, and, above all, he had the virtue of 
interest and industry ... to write down what he 
saw and understood, to preserve it for us, for poster- 
ity and for history." 

Mr. Hall proved that true culture, far from mak- 
ing a man unfit for mingling on even terms with 
people of all sorts and conditions, prepares him for 
the most helpful life in whatever circumstances he 
is placed. He "entered with spirit and sympathy 
into all the life of the backwoods. He became a 
skilled marksman with the rifle; he enjoyed the 
shooting matches; he learned the art of rolling 
logs; he became a skilled and practised hand at 
the wood-choppings; he learned the manners of the 
quilting parties; ... he clerked in a country store 
and ground bark in a tannery." 

There is nothing like a season of doing without 
conveniences that have seemed a matter of course, 

168 



THROUGH GOD'S EYES 169 

to make one fully appreciative of them. Thus 
Mr. Hall learned from his pioneer experiences to 
enjoy the " plain, everyday conveniences at home, 
once undervalued and perhaps despised, but which 
belong to the tenor of life"; and to "bear with good 
humor a thousand petty disquietudes of civilized 
life." He learned that pioneer life could cure one 
"of a very common and dreadful malady, called 
1 the fidgets/" 

Another lesson that Mr. Hall learned for himself 
and then taught to others is that when one is dis- 
turbed or anxious or worn out, there is nothing like 
a day with Nature to soothe and calm and give 
rest, and that when one is content and joyful one 
of the best ways to continue so is to go out of doors 
and drink in the beauty of God's world. So "amid 
the mire and the briers of the field, the wallows and 
mudholes in the road, amid the paw-paws, the 
sassafras and the sycamores, he saw not only the 
homely side of life but he had an eye and a heart 
for the grandeur and beauty of his primeval sur- 
roundings — the warbling birds, the bounding deer, 
the racing squirrels, the giant trees, the everlast- 
ing shade, the gleaming sunlight by day, the clear 
blue sky at night over the camp-meeting tent, 
like a dome radiant with golden stars." Thus his 
biographer speaks of him. 

He himself, in the chapter of his journal where 
he told of floating down the Ohio River on a raft, 
wrote thus: "But the sunsets, and the twilight! 
The witchery then entranced the very soul! All 
of poetry, and of shadowy forms, and of sinless 
elysium, all of magic in musings and dreams, all 
was embodied there! The ethereal floated on the 
river's bosom, while its now unruffled waters floated 
our rude vessels. It dwelt in the dark mirror, 



I70 THE VICTORY LIFE 

where shadows of cliff and forest pointed to a depth 
down, down, away, far beyond the sounding-line. 
It was melting in the blazing river, where farewell 
rays were reflected as the sun hid behind some tall 
and precipitous headland." o 

Mr. Hall was able to enjoy Nature to the full 
because he had learned to enjoy the God of Nature. 
Wherever he went he knew that God was near. 
This knowledge gave him courage at one of the 
tense moments of his journey. Of this experience 
he said: "We stood now on the pinnacle of the great 
Cove Mountain, and were gazing at the mingled 
grandeur and beauty of the scene. Few are un- 
moved by the view from that top; as for myself, 
I was ravished. Was I not on the dividing ridge 
between two worlds — the worn and fading East, 
the new and magic West? And yet I now felt, and 
painfully felt, that we were bidding adieu to home 
and entering on the untried; still, hope was superior 
to fear, and I was eager to pass those other peaks/' 

Thus the thought of God was with him every 
day of the long journey. 

So the reader is ready for the concluding words 
of Mr. Hall's journal: "True, perfect, uninter- 
rupted happiness is neither in the far East nor in the 
far West; it is in God, in Heaven." 



THE POINT OF VIEW 

SO much of the unrest that vexes and irritates 
us is due to our inability or unwillingness 
to see events clearly and to interpret them 
truly. 

For weeks after a schoolboy's promotion he dis- 
tressed his father by disparaging remarks about his 
new teacher. Every evening he had some new 
fault to find. "She is unpleasant, unreasonable, 
unfair, and unsympathetic/ 5 he insisted. Not once 
did he have a good word to say for her. Naturally 
he was losing all interest in school, and he was 
always irritable when school was mentioned. At 
last his father said, "I have been listening to 
what you have said about your teacher. I want 
you to do something for me to-morrow. Be on the 
watch all day long for a good point in her work; 
then tell me about it in the evening." 

The son said it was useless to try; but when his 
father insisted, he promised to make the attempt. 
Next evening, to his astonishment, he was able to 
give a satisfactory report. He felt sure, however, 
that he would never find anything else. Yet his 
father urged him to try again the next day. The 
second report also was favorable. For many days 
the same program was followed. Before long the 
son was volunteering kindly comments, and within 
a month he was thoroughly loyal to the teacher. 
Once more he became the cheerful, dependable boy 
he had been before his promotion. 

171 



172 THE VICTORY LIFE 

A man who was compelled to walk on crutches 
for a time was at first tempted to feel that he had 
a hard road to travel. Everything seemed against 
him. Sensitiveness to what he thought was the 
attitude of others toward a lame man threatened 
for a time to make life a burden. Then came the 
day when he decided to keep his eye open for kindly 
treatment. In "The Outlook" he gave the result 
of his observations: 

"I have become convinced of the truth of the 
fact that, no matter what appears on the surface, 
the American of every class has indeed kindliness 
of heart, which is the root of good manners. No 
more for me is the ' Step lively, please/ of the sub- 
way guard or the street car conductor. In its place 
is 'Take your time, don't hurry/ as I get on or off. 
It is not too much to say that on no single day for 
many months have I failed to receive some evidence 
of thoughtful consideration from a complete stranger. 
Sometimes it is only the courteous fellow-traveler 
who moves up to give me a seat by the door, some- 
times it is a kindly old gentleman who insists on 
seeing me across a street which I have crossed a 
hundred times by myself; it has even been a cab- 
man who has offered to carry me across a street 
gratis. But always there is something which shows 
the innate kindliness of the 'man in the street' 
and sends me home with a glow about my heart. 53 

Luke in his Gospel tells how a new point of view 
helped the disciples to gain poise. On a day when 
there was discord among Jesus' disciples because 
two of them wished to be greatest in the Kingdom 
of Heaven, John, one of the two, complained be- 
cause he had seen some one who was doing Jesus' 
work, but not in Jesus' name. "We forbade him," 
John said. But Jesus said unto him, "Forbid him 



THROUGH GOD'S EYES I73 

not: for he that is not against us is for us." 
John had never before thought of the matter in that 
light; the loving rebuke of the Master marked 
another stage of progress in the disciple's inner life. 
There are usually at least two ways of looking 
at anything: the acute and the right angle. Some 
individuals have learned to look at everything from 
the happiest point of view. To change the point 
of view is, for many of us, one of life's serious prob- 
lems. 



LI 

AMBITION WAS NOT ENOUGH 

A GIFTED young woman had written a book, 
which had been accepted for publication. 
She could hardly wait to see the first copy. 
At last she held it in her hands. That night she 
wrote in her journal: 

"What do I care for rest, pleasure, anything, 
compared with ambition? There is only one thing 
in this world that can make me happy: I want to 
be a great writer some day. There is not room in 
my heart for any other feeling. Ambition is the 
ruling passion of my life. Nothing else could satisfy 
me." 

But as the months passed the young woman 
discovered that she was not at rest. "Somehow 
her successes did not bring to her the measure of 
satisfaction which she had anticipated/' J. R. Miller 
wrote, in his book called "The Story of a Busy Life: 
Recollections of Mrs. George A. Paull." She was 
hungry for something else, and she did not know 
what it was. "I am a restless, dissatisfied sort 
of creature," she wrote; "I thought I would be 
perfectly happy when my novel came out. But 
somehow I find myself still longing for something 
else — I don't know exactly what — and when I 
have time to think, I am quite restless. What is 
it that I yet want in order to be quite content?" 

She did not realize that the lack in her life was 
owing to her attitude toward the world. "I don't 

174 



THROUGH GODS EYES 175 

care about doing good," she said. "I am willing 
to make people happier. There isn't any use in 
going through the world looking grum and cross; 
but as to doing good, I leave that to ministers." 

There came a day, however, when she began to 
wish that Christianity did mean something, and 
that she could count on the comforting assurance 
that God really loved her. "I fancied that it would 
be so restful to believe that God's love brooded 
over me as tenderly as a mother's love and care," 
she said. Then she began to wonder if she was not 
to be satisfied by ambition, after all; if she must 
have a real loving, living belief in God before peace 
could come to her heart. 

She tried to fill her life with deeds of helpful- 
ness, but this did not satisfy her. "Underneath all 
that I say and do is an unrest which will not be 
quieted," she confided to her journal. "I ask 
myself what I would give to purchase peace. It 
seems to me as if it would be a very easy thing to 
sacrifice my ambition, myself." 

The day came when she realized that God did not 
ask her to sacrifice anything, but merely to welcome 
Him to her heart and make Him the Lord of her 
life. Then she was able to say: 

"It is with a heart overflowing with love and 
gratitude to my heavenly Father that I record 
his great mercy to me ... I do not think I shall 
ever forget those moments. Peace flowed into 
my soul and diffused itself through all my being. 
I knelt down and gave myself to God with a glad 
consecration of every faculty and power. It was 
a delight to kneel there with the sweet assurance of 
acceptance. I never imagined as possible to me 
anything so restful and satisfying as this peace, 
which passeth all understanding." She had found 



I76 THE VICTORY LIFE 

what she wanted, and she devoted her life to show- 
ing others the way to Him who said, "Peace I leave 
with you, My peace I give unto you; not as the 
world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart 
be troubled, neither let it be afraid/' 



GUIDED IN THE WAY 



'We ask thy peace, Lord, 
Through storm and fear and strife, 
To light and guide us on 
Through a long, struggling life; 
While no succor or gain 
Shall cheer the desperate fight, 
Or nerve what the world calls our wasted might: 
Yet pressing through the darkness to the light." 



LII 
THE GIVER OF VICTORY 

THERE are people who profess to smile in a 
superior way at what they call the credulity 
of those who believe that God interests 
Himself in the affairs of those who trust Him, but 
His children know that God has His hand on their 
lives, and are not disturbed by such smiles of deri- 
sion. 

J. Hudson Taylor, of the China Inland Mission, 
was an insistent believer in this truth. On one of 
his visits in America he was in St. Louis, where he 
conducted a series of meetings and was the guest 
of Dr. J. H. Brookes. From St. Louis he was 
under appointment to go to a small town in Illinois, 
where he was to give an address at eight o'clock in 
the evening. In order to reach this town he was to 
leave St. Louis by an early train on Monday morn- 
ing. The story of the trip has been told by Dr. 
Mary H. McLean: 

"The hour arrived, but the coachman did not. 
As there seemed still abundance of time his arrival 
was awaited with little concern. But at last Dr. 
Brookes became much concerned, and they started 
to try to catch a street car. It was in the days 
before telephones were much in use. On the way 
to the car they met the coachman with the carriage, 
entered it, and bade the coachman drive as quickly 
as possible. 

"Dr. Brookes watched the time, and was much 
concerned about missing the train. But Mr. Taylor 

179 



l8o THE VICTORY LIFE 

was quite at ease, and said quietly, 'My Father runs 
the trains, and I am on His business/ 

"Upon reaching the station they found that the 
train had gone, and were told that no other train 
would leave for the town mentioned before evening. 
Dr. Brookes expressed great regret and concern, 
but again Mr. Taylor reminded him, 'My Father 
runs the trains.' 

"Just as they turned from the ticket office a man 
rushed up to Mr. Taylor, saying, 'I was so afraid 
that I had missed you. I want to tell you how God 
has used you to bring blessing to me/ As he turned 
away he slipped an envelope into Mr. Taylor's 
hands, which was found to contain seventy-five 
dollars, marked, 'For your personal use/ 

"Mr. Taylor said to Dr. Brookes, 'You see, my 
Father has just sent me my railway fare/ Dr. 
Brookes was amazed, and asked, 'Did you not have 
your railway fare, and if not, why did you not let me 
know?' He replied, 'I told my Father/ and he 
added, 'I never use money except such as is marked 
for personal use/ 

"Then Mr Taylor walked leisurely to a man 
standing among outgoing trains and asked if he 
knew of any way by which he might reach the 
town in Illinois that evening. The man replied 
that a train would be leaving soon which passed 
through Springfield, Illinois, and that a train from 
Chicago passed through Springfield en route to the 
town mentioned. But he said that the Chicago 
train would pass through Springfield an hour before 
the train from St. Louis was due in that place. Mr. 
Taylor said with great assurance that the St. Louis 
train would reach Springfield first that day. 

"So he bought his ticket and boarded the train, 
bidding Dr. Brookes be comforted, as his Father 



GUIDED IN THE WAY l8l 

certainly did run the trains. For the first time in 
months the Chicago train was an hour late; Mr. 
Taylor stepped from one train to the other, reached 
his destination in good time and wired to Dr. Brookes, 
'My Father runs the trains/" 

Dr. J. J. Lucas, who had served forty-five years 
as a missionary in India, has said: 

"The most real thing in my life is the sense of 
God's presence and guidance. In 1870 I was under 
appointment to go to India. Word was sent me by 
the Secretary of the Board of Foreign Missions to 
be sure to reach New York in time to sail on the 
steamer Cambria on October 8, with ten other 
missionaries. My mother decided to accompany 
me, in spite of the fact that my sister was seriously 
ill, for she wished to see me on board the ship. 

"While we were on the way to New York, Dr. 
William Adams, pastor of Madison Avenue Pres- 
byterian Church, had said at a meeting of the 
Board of Foreign Missions, of which he was presi- 
dent, that it was a pity such a company of missiona- 
ries should leave for their fields of labor just before 
the Sabbath, when, by waiting several days longer, 
there could be held for them a great farewell service. 

"It was pointed out to him that there were 
difficulties in the way of a change of plans. Passage 
had been engaged, and the missionaries would 
come to the city with the thought of early departure 
in mind. 

"But his pleas prevailed. The steamship com- 
pany consented to make the change, and word to 
this effect was sent to the missionaries under ap- 
pointment. 

"In spite of my disappointment and that of others, 
we had a glorious meeting on Sunday evening, and 
we sailed on October 12, according to the revised 
plan. 



182 THE VICTORY LIFE 



«i 



'Now note this fact. The Cambria did not 
reach port. She sank during the voyage from New 
York, and all on board were lost save one, who when 
picked up was demented. This was the first news 
that reached the missionaries when they arrived 
safely at Liverpool. 

"In Allahabad thirty years later, we had a girls' 
school which we wished to develop into a college, 
but the Missionary Board had no funds for us. 
We did not know what to do. But God knew. 

"In 1902 an American business man was traveling 
in Europe. He had planned to return to America 
without going farther, but when he was in Naples 
he decided to go to India. When he reached India 
he was talking to an acquaintance in Calcutta about 
his itinerary, which he had completed. 'But you 
are leaving out Allahabad/ the acquaintance ob- 
jected. 'Surely you are not going home without 
seeing your friends there!' 'But I have no time for 
Allahabad/ the traveler replied. 'You must go 
there/ the answer came. 'Let me show you how 
you can make the journey/ 

"The new arrangement suggested was accepted 
and the business man went to Allahabad. After 
spending twenty-four hours with the missionaries 
he was about to say good-by, when he asked them, 
'Is there anything I can do for you?' 

"Thus encouraged the missionaries told of their 
desire to remove the girls' school from the com- 
pound, secure other ground, and erect a building for 
a college. "The plan as outlined pleased the busi- 
ness man. He made further inquiries, and offered 
to give twelve thousand dollars to purchase the 
land needed and fifty thousand dollars for buildings. 

"During the years since he has made further gifts 
to the building fund and has supported two profes- 



GUIDED IN THE WAY 183 

sors in the school, which was long known as Alla- 
habad Christian College, though now it is called 
Ewing Christian College in loving memory of its 
first president, Dr. A. H. Ewing." 

Incidents even more striking were told by a 
writer in the "Christian Endeavor World." They 
show President Lincoln's reliance on the guidance 
of His heavenly Father, his belief in prayer, and 
the fact that God in his providence is always watch- 
ing over His workers. 

"It seems that in the terrible days preceding the 
announcement that the President had signed a 
proclamation giving freedom to the slaves, days 
which to the people of the North were the blackest 
of any days during that awful four years, Governor 
Andrew of Massachusetts, that grand old patriot, 
called one of the members of his staff to him as he 
sat in his office, and said, 'I want you to go to 
Washington and see President Lincoln. 5 

"'Very well/ said the aide; 'what message shall 
I take to the President from you?' 

"'Oh/ replied the governor, 'I haven't any par- 
ticular message for the President. Just tell him 
that he will never end the war until he frees the 
slaves/ 

"'Why/ said the aide, 'I can't go to the White 
House with any such message as that. What 
would Mr. Lincoln think of me if I should travel 
from Boston to Washington just to repeat those 
words to him?' 

'"Very well, if you look at the matter that way, 
then I order you to go, and as your superior shall 
insist upon obedience.' 

"His aide started the next day in a not especially 
cheerful mood. At Springfield he happened to 
meet a prominent politician, who inquired where 



I84 THE VICTORY LIFE 

he was going. When he learned that Washington 
was his destination, he inquired whether he expected 
to see the President, and, when an affirmative answer 
was returned, he said, 'When you see President Lin- 
coln, you tell him from me that he will never end the 
war until he frees the slaves/ 

"The aide was startled at the coincidence. Then, 
in New York City, he met another politician, a man 
known from one end of the country to the other, 
who repeated the same words, 'If you see President 
Lincoln, tell him from me that he will never end 
the war until he frees the slaves/ 

"The governor's aide, upon leaving New York, 
entered into conversation on the train with another 
well-known patriot, and again the same message 
was given to him, 'When you see President Lincoln, 
tell him that he will never end the war until he 
frees the slaves/ 

"By that time there was no question in the mind 
of the man from the Bay State that the message 
which had been intrusted to him was of paramount 
importance. At Washington he secured an early 
interview with the President. "When the great, 
ungainly hand had clasped his, the man from Mas- 
sachusetts rapidly and in the simplest language 
possible told the remarkable story of his journey to 
Washington. Slowly the tears stole down the rugged 
face of the President, and he stepped to a desk and 
took out a paper. It was the proclamation of the 
emancipation to the slaves. 

"As he showed the document to his visitor, he 
said, 'I have been praying and praying that God 
would send me a message telling me that this should 
be given to the people. Now the slaves shall be 
free/ Shortly after, the proclamation was issued, 
and the rest is history/' 



GUIDED IN THE WAY 185 

These encouragements to faith help us in days 
of doubt and darkness and uncertainty to look into 
God's face and hold His hand with unfaltering con- 
fidence, knowing that the giver of victory will never 
forsake His people. 



LIII 

"WAS IT WORTH WHILE ?" 

TWENTY-FIVE years ago, when Theodore 
Storrs Lee was a student at Williston Semi- 
nary, Massachusetts, he persuaded some of 
his friends that they owed it to the institution to 
set out vines around South Hall. On the day 
when the work was to be done, rain fell without 
intermission, and most of the men wished to put 
off the vine-planting. But young Lee did not see 
why plans should be changed. With one companion, 
he went out in the rain and set out forty Japanese 
ivy vines. " There was eloquence in this beginning," 
says one who has written of him. " Later, others 
were persuaded to adorn the other three halls in like 
fashion, and in various ways to beautify the campus." 

The incident was significant not only for Williston 
Seminary, but for that section of India to which 
Mr. Lee devoted the eight years of life on earth 
left to him after his graduation from Amherst in 
1900. 

He never was strong. His studies were inter- 
rupted more than once by a breakdown that threat- 
ened to end his life. During his service as a mis- 
sionary he suffered from still more serious collapses. 
But always he kept at his work with the earnest pur- 
pose to make the most of the brief time he felt 
he was to have for service. This indication of his 
zeal is given by another missionary: 

"His Indian fellow-workers still shake their heads 
and draw in their breath at the memory of the pace 
he set them. When on a tour among the villages, 

186 



GUIDED IN THE WAY 187 

often he would start at five in the morning, walk 
to a village, gather the people, hold a service and 
talk to individuals, walk to another village, and 
then another, there, perhaps, adding the inspection 
of a school. Taking what rest he could get under 
some tree at noon, he would continue the process 
until evening, doing effective work of a peculiarly- 
trying nature in six or more villages in the course of 
a day. One preacher tells with awe of how they 
started out one morning and were caught by a 
heavy rain in the midst of villages the only con- 
necting links of which were thick, sticky clay 
roads. Theodore would not turn back, but com- 
pleted the day's program. Another time, after a 
day's round of seven villages, when this preacher 
was completely exhausted, Theodore took the 
eighteen-mile bicycle ride to Wai and back, because 
something imperative called him there." 

The secret of his ability to work so earnestly is 
seen in his practice of spending a half-hour each 
morning in Bible-reading and prayer. This habit 
was formed long before he went to the mission field. 
A classmate has said: ! 

"If it was right for him to give careful attention 
to his body and resolute attention to his mental 
development by faithfully preparing his college 
work, it was also essential, he believed, to feed his 
spirit each day under the leadership of the Master 
Teacher. His Bible always was upon his desk, 
and again and again I have found him poring over 
the Book. The strength and beauty of spirit that 
such food always develops one could see in his 
face." 

His influence for good on his associates was 
marvelous, simply because he proved by his life 
the reality of his Christian profession. It was said 



188 THE VICTORY LIFE 

of him by a friend that "no deadlier enemy of 
vice ever entered Amherst College," while another 
friend wrote: 

"When his tall, rigid form moved through a 
company, whether in the fraternity house or on the 
campus, we all felt instinctively that here was one 
who could be relied upon for truest, stanchest friend- 
ship and unbending integrity. Like ozone, he 
unconsciously purified the atmosphere wherever 
he went." 

It would be a mistake, however, to think that 
he was not a welcome companion. He knew how 
to tell a good, clean story, and he could appreciate 
a story told by another. Twelve years afterwards 
a classmate spoke of a story told by him: "It was 
ridiculously absurd, but was related with all the 
imaginative details and dry humor that character- 
ize a good story teller," the man said. 

He was consumed by a passion for helping people. 
Once he was on his way to a convention, in company 
with fellow-students. As he stepped from the 
train, his quick eye saw a need he could supply. 
Excusing himself, he went to "a poor old woman 
who was trying to carry a burden all too heavy 
for her, swung it upon his shoulders and carried it 
to the place she was going." 

While at the theological seminary, he was walking 
with a friend when he saw an intoxicated man asleep 
on a heap of rubbish. The two carried the man to 
the seminary, cared for him there for thirty-six 
hours, and sent him back to his family. Ten 
years later, when the man heard of his benefactor's 
death, he insisted upon returning to Mr. Lee's father 
the ten dollars which the student had given him. 

In India a company of high-caste young men 
began to come to him, ostensibly on a mission of 



GUIDED IN THE WAY ' 189 

inquiry, but really to improve their English. He 
saw through their scheme, but devoted valuable 
hours to them, for he was resolved to neglect no 
chance to influence others. A number of these 
young men in later years became leaders in their 
communities, and the lessons they had learned 
bore rich fruit for the Kingdom of Heaven. 

When traveling by train with a native worker, 
he would ride in the car set apart for the poor 
natives, rather than go alone to the comfortable 
quarters provided for foreigners. One night, when 
there was but one cot in the room which he and his 
native companion were to occupy, he went to bed 
first, rolling himself in his blanket on the floor, and 
refused to listen to entreaties that he take the cot. 

The children of the mission schools looked for- 
ward to his visits, for he was their companion; he 
played marbles with them and taught them calis- 
thenics. The native teachers delighted in him. 
One teacher he helped in sickness in his own pecu- 
liarly tender manner. Later he "took the young 
worker off into the fields for an intimate talk and 
putting his arm around him, expressed apprecia- 
tion of his work and prayed with him in such a 
loving way that that afternoon forms one of the 
memorable events in the young Christian's life." 

Mr. Lee accomplished wonders in eight years. 
It was a marvelously efficient work of preparing 
the soil and sowing the seed throughout a large and 
populous district. 

"Was It Worth While ?" is the title given to the 
volume which tells of the life of Mr. Lee. And in 
the closing chapter, Fred B. Smith says, "The 
ordinary man of the street would call him a fool." 

But if Theodore Storrs Lee was a fool, who is the 
wise man? 



LIV 

VICTORY IN WEAKNESS 

THROUGH and through — thought and act 
— body and soul — I hate it!" 

This was Clara Barton's vigorous state- 
ment of her attitude to war, as told by Percy H. 
Epler, her biographer. And she had a right to use 
vigorous language. She knew war. Yet she was 
not attracted to the scene of strife by love of ex- 
citement; she went in response to the bitter cry of 
anguish; she was "the angel of the battlefield." 

If the peace she ardently longed for could not 
be the possession of her countrymen, she deter- 
mined to do what she could to bring peace to them 
as individuals, in the midst of their trials. And in so 
doing she took the nearest way to win for herself the 
deepest satisfaction. 

No one would have picked out Clara Barton for 
the part she played. She was weak, slight, timid 
— everything seemed against her. But one of the 
very things that was responsible for some of these 
handicaps pointed the way to her life-work. When 
she was but eleven she began to care for her invalid 
brother, David. "For two years I only left his bed- 
side for one half-day," she said later. "I almost for- 
got that there was an outside to the house." Her 
growth was arrested by the strain and the con- 
finement. 

After sixteen years as a school teacher, physical 
weakness manifested itself in a complete break- 
down. At the close of the Civil War she was at 

190 



GUIDED IN THE WAY I9I 

the breaking point, but the call came to a work that 
no one else could do, and she rose to the emergency. 
In 1868, when she was delivering a lecture in the 
interest of her work, her voice left her. All that 
winter she lay helpless. " Three years of un- 
sheltered days and nights, the sun and storms, the 
dews and damps, had done their work." In 1870, 
when she was urged to bear the Red Cross to the 
Prussian firing line, she felt she must decline be- 
cause she was an invalid; yet the call to service 
could not be resisted. In 1876 she went to a sani- 
tarium, and remained in the hospital and vicinity 
for nearly ten years; yet during those years she 
rallied whenever there was the call to do something 
she felt she alone could do. And, in spite of these 
repeated breakdowns, she retained her youthful 
appearance. When she was eighty-five years old 
a reporter spoke of her as "a middle-aged woman." 

Another serious handicap was her excessive timid- 
ity and fear. "In the early years of my life I re- 
member nothing but fear," she confessed in 1907. 
In 1836 her mother, wondering what such a timid 
child could do, asked the counsel of a phrenologist 
concerning her. "The sensitive nature will always 
remain," he said. "She will never assert herself 
for herself; she will suffer wrong first. But for 
others she will be perfectly fearless." His prophecy 
was fulfilled. On the field, later, when a soldier in 
agony begged her to extract a bullet with her pen- 
knife, she did as he wished. "The courage that 
she attained," her biographer says, "was due not 
to the absence of fear but to the fact that she over- 
came it." 

One reason this frail woman could overcome 
obstacles was that her heart was in everything she 
did. She did not work for money. As a teacher 



192 THE VICTORY LIFE 

in Burlington, New Jersey, she gave up her salary 
that she might teach a free school. At the out- 
break of the war she was a Government clerk. 
Because the Government was in dire need of money, 
she begged to do the work of two clerks, without 
salary. She had saved a little money in time of 
peace, and she was resolved to devote her savings 
and herself to the service of humanity. "If war 
must be, she neither expected nor desired to come 
out of it with a dollar," a friend said. "What is 
money without a country?" Miss Barton asked. 
After the war she spent eight thousand dollars in 
the effort to identify the burial-places of soldiers, 
though later this sum was returned to her by act 
of Congress. She arranged to deliver three hundred 
lectures and to devote the receipts to her work. 
In 1893 she was paying the rent of the headquarters 
of the Red Cross in Washington. 

Another remarkable characteristic was her utter 
indifference to the opinions of others, if she felt 
she was in the right. She paid no heed to those 
who declared that she was unwomanly because 
she worked in a Government department. In 1861 
she amazed Washington churchgoers by leading 
through the streets a procession of negro porters 
who were carrying supplies to the sick and wounded. 
Of the call that came to go to the front, she wrote: 
"I struggled long and hard with my sense of pro- 
priety, with the appalling fact that I was only a 
woman whispering in one ear, and thundering in 
the other the groans of suffering men dying like 
dogs." Her father's encouragement helped her. 
"Go, if it is your duty to go," he said. "I know 
soldiers; they will respect you and your errand." 

Wherever she went she won deference and love. 
In her first school, taught when she was fifteen, 



GUIDED IN THE WAY I93 

"instead of being locked out, as the previous teacher 
had been, she Mocked' herself 'in' the heart of every 
boy and girl." On the battlefield surgeons looked 
askance at her, for a time — but the deference 
they paid her later "was almost painful/' to use 
her own expression. 

Miss Barton was remarkable both for her initia- 
tive and for her persistence. She suggested improve- 
ments in the way of handling the wounded that 
were adopted at once. Her scheme to identify the 
dead was adopted after the close of the war. She 
would not listen to those who said the work was 
impossible, but began it and pursued it to a successful 
issue. In like manner when she made up her mind 
that the United States should enter the company 
of nations which signed the Red Cross Treaty, she 
began a fight for recognition which lasted for eleven 
years. 

She had her reward in abundant recognition. 
Between 1870 and 1900 twenty-four decorations 
were conferred on her; but she found more pleasure 
in the knowledge that she had been of use than in 
all of these. And after her death — at the age of 
ninety-one — these words were written of her : 

"She was perhaps the most perfect incarnation of 
mercy the modern world has ever known, the 
embodiment of one vital principle of all religion — 
love for humanity/' 



LV 
VICTORY THROUGH UNSELFISH SERVICE 

MANY could not see her greatness for what 
they called her eccentricities, forgetting, 
or perhaps being unaware of, what she had 
passed through; experiences such as no other 
woman had undergone, and which explained much 
that seemed unusual in her conduct. But when 
her life is viewed as a whole, and in the light of what 
she achieved, all these angles and oddities fall 
away, and she stands out, a woman of unique and 
inspiring personality, and one of the most heroic 
figures of the age." 

In these words W. P. Livingstone comments on 
the wonderful story of a missionary in equatorial 
Africa whose life has been said to rival in many par- 
ticulars the thrilling story of the heroism and de- 
votion of David Livingstone. Yet while her life 
may, in a way, be compared to that of Livingstone, 
it stands alone in the annals of heroic women. 
It is well worth while, entirely apart from its mis- 
sionary interest. 

Mary Slessor was the product of a home in Scot- 
land, where she had the discipline of poverty. At 
an early age she had to go to work in a factory. 
There she was busy from six in the morning until 
six at night. Her wages were needed at home, so 
she could not indulge her taste for an education. 
That she would have delighted in study is shown 
by the fact that on the evening when she was in- 
troduced to "Sartor Resartus" she was oblivious 

194 



GUIDED IN THE WAY I95 

to everything until the factory whistle told her 
that it was morning, and that she must hurry to 
her work if she wished to avoid a fine. 

She was twenty-eight when she heard the call 
of Africa. The need at home was still great, but 
she decided that most of her meager salary could 
be paid over to her mother. 

It was not in vain that she had been in the school 
of hardship while in the home land. Her sympathy 
for the suffering was made very keen, and she was 
ready to become the fierce champion of little chil- 
dren in opposition to brutal superstition. Thus 
she became the friend of the mothers. "Her 
womanly sympathy and tenderness were never 
better exhibited than in her relations with her dark 
sisters. She entered into their lives as few have been 
able to do. She treated them as human beings, 
saw the romance and tragedy in their patient lives, 
wept over their trials, and rejoiced in their joys." 

She knew that Calabar was one of the most un- 
healthy spots in the world and that the natives 
were considered the most degraded in Africa ; 
yet, in 1878, she offered herself for service among 
them. In later years, when suffering and hardship 
proved greater than she had ever dreamed they 
would be, she did not draw back. She declared, 
"My life was laid on the altar for that people many 
years ago, and I would not take one jot or tittle of 
it back." 

When she was forty years old, after spending 
some years near the coast, she wrote: "I am going 
to a new tribe up-country, a fierce, cruel people, 
and everyone tells me that they will kill me. But I 
don't fear any hurt — only to combat their savage 
customs will require courage and firmness on my 
part." Even in old age she persisted in her deter- 



I96 THE VICTORY LIFE 

initiation to go still further into the wilds. "I 
know that I can do work which new folk cannot do," 
she said; "and my days of service are closing in." 

She proved that sympathetic love can accom- 
plish what force cannot do. When she proposed to 
go to a tribe which was infamous because of its 
custom of slaughtering twins, who were considered 
a disgrace, and the wives and slaves of a dead chief, 
that they might go with him to the spirit land, her 
friends told her that soldiers backed by gunboats 
had never been able to do anything with these men; 
how could she expect to succeed in this, and in the 
defence of those accused of witchcraft? 

Her first^step, when she went to the homes of the 
people, was to ask that the mission chapel she 
would build should be made a sanctuary for those 
accused of witchcraft, for twins and for other un- 
fortunates. Then she secured a similar privilege 
for her house. Having won these concessions, she 
proceeded to locate the two houses more than a 
mile apart! This would cause inconvenience to 
her; but of what account was this when two places 
at a distance one from the other were provided for 
the people's distress? 

When she learned that a man, a woman or a child 
was in danger, she hurried to succor that one and 
forbade the chief or others in power to take life. 
Frequently there was a combat of wills, but always 
she was victor. "I understand that the mother is 
determined in her way. What can I do but submit ? " 
a chief said to her on one occasion. She lived en- 
tirely alone, far from other white folks, but she 
ruled as a veritable white chief. She was utterly 
fearless. There were no locks on her doors. She 
went everywhere, and only once was a hand lifted 
against her; then an apology followed speedily. 



GUIDED IN THE WAY I97 

The day came when the chief agreed that twins 
should be permitted to live; that trial by poison 
should cease; that slaves and wives should no more 
be slain after the death of one of the tribe's great 
men. Wonder was expressed by her friends that 
such things should have been accomplished by a 
weak woman, with no backing. "You have evi- 
dently forgotten to take into account the woman's 
God," she said. One of the ignorant negro women 
realized the truth better, for she exclaimed one 
day: "Ma, you white people are God Almighty. 
No other power could have done this." 

It would be a mistake to conclude that this heroine 
must have been a virago, an Amazon. Her biog- 
rapher says that "it is impossible to give an ade- 
quate picture of her complex nature, so full of 
contrasts and opposites. She was a woman of 
affairs, with a wide and catholic outlook upon 
humanity, and yet she was a shy solitary, walking 
alone in Puritan simplicity and childlike faith. 
Few have possessed such moral and physical courage 
or exercised such imperious power over savage peo- 
ples, yet on trivial occasions she was abjectly timid 
and afraid. A sufferer from chronic malarial affec- 
tion and a martyr to pain, her days were filled with 
unremitting toil. Overflowing with love and tender 
feeling, she could be' stern and exacting. Shrewd, 
practical and matter-of-fact, she believed that sen- 
timent was a gift of God, and frankly indulged in it. 
Living always in the midst of spiritual darkness, 
and often depressed and worried, she maintained 
unimpaired a sense of humor and laughter. Strong 
and tenacious of will, she admitted the right of 
others to oppose her." 

Honors came to her. Great Britain made her 
head of the court of chiefs, but she refused a salary. 



I98 THE VICTORY LIFE 

She was decorated, but the order was kept only as a 
curiosity, and she felt that she was not worthy. 

The one reward she sought was the transformation 
of the negroes. "It is a dark and difficult land, 
and I am old and weak — but happy," she wrote, 
not long before her death, which came in 191 5 
when she was in the midst of her work. 

One who saw her among her people has told of 
her startling dress, her bare feet, her roughened 
hands, the skin of the palms gone and the nails down 
to the quick/ But the observer realized that she 
was in the presence of one of the noblest women 
who ever lifted up her hands in behalf of her fellows. 



LVI 
"TO LEARN, TO TEACH, TO SERVE." 

WHAT is the ideal aim of life?" The ques- 
tion was asked of Julia Ward Howe by 
one of her daughters. 

"To learn, to teach, to serve, to enjoy," was the 
thoughtful response. 

Those who knew the author of "The Battle Hymn 
of the Republic/' and who read the story of her 
life by Laura E. Richards and Maude Howe Elliott, 
will agree not only that she made a good reply, 
but that the words describe her own long life of 
remarkable usefulness. 

As a girl Julia Ward gave such free rein to her 
taste for study that she felt this was the one thing 
worth while in life. One day her Uncle John, com- 
menting on her first literary publication, said, 
"This is my little girl who knows about books, and 
writes an article and has it printed, but I wish she 
knew more about housekeeping." 

When Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, the Director 
of Perkins Institution for the Blind, came into her 
life, she had a new vision. "His true devotion has 
won me from the world and from myself," she wrote 
to her brother. "The past is already fading from 
my sight; already I begin to live with him in the 
future, which shall be as calmly bright as true love 
can make it. I am perfectly satisfied to sacrifice 
to one so noble and earnest the day dream of my 
youth." Years with her husband did not lead her 
to change her views, for when her daughter Laura 
was about to be married, she wrote to her, "To be 

199 



200 THE VICTORY LIFE 

i 

happily married seems to me to be the best thing for 
a woman/' 

When bereavement came, and, later, when her 
daughters were married, she resolved to fill the 
empty spaces. "The need of serving humanity 
actively, hand and foot, pen and voice, was now 
urgent/' Her reason for service she once stated thus: 
"Ourselves we have always with us; our fellows 
flit from our company, or pass away, and we must 
help them when and while we can/' And she did 
not make the mistake of looking so hard at spec- 
tacular forms of service that she overlooked trifling 
opportunities. Everywhere she went, in America 
or in Europe, she was at the call of reforms that 
needed her, but at home she never overlooked 
the humble hackmen who had a stand near her 
Boston house. "They must have something hot," 
she would say in severe weather, and then she would 
send tea or coffee to them. 

She did not desert her home for the larger service 
to which she gave herself. She was always a home 
lover. Literary work, club work, or reform work 
gave new zest to household activities. Many 
times her diaries show how rapidly she could turn 
from one form of service to the other. She could 
do this easily because she knew how to use her 
time to the best advantage. "Hard at work," 
"Determined to do more literary work than I have 
been doing lately, " "Very busy all day, " "Working 
hard as usual," were characteristic entries in her 
journal. When she was eighty-two years old, she 
wrote, "I made my bed, turning the mattress, and 
put my room generally to rights." 

Strenuous efforts in the cause of peace were a natu- 
ral result of her woman's club work. "Why do 
not the mothers of mankind interfere?" she asked, 



GUIDED IN THE WAY 201 

i 

during the Franco-German War of 1870. So she 
sent an "Appeal to Womanhood Throughout the 
World" to arise and declare that "blood does not 
wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession." 
It is not strange that her love for literary Germany- 
had a rude awakening when "she came in contact 
with this new Junker Germany, this harsh, manda- 
tory, unlovely country where Bismarck was the 
ruling spirit and Von Moltke the idol of the hour." 
During the Boer War she "had a sudden thought 
of the Christ Babe standing between the two armies, 
Boers and Britons, on Christmas Day." She had 
a vision of the day of peace, when "all of evil was 
gone from the earth, misery was blotted out, man- 
kind was emancipated and ready to march forward 
in a new era of human understanding, all-encompass- 
ing sympathy and ever-present help, the era of 
perpetual love, of peace passing understanding." 

There was nothing more characteristic than her 
words written at the close or at the beginning of a 
year. "Here ends a year of service, of more than 
my usual health, of power to speak and write," 
she said when she was eighty-two. Four years 
after she prayed that she might not wilfully waste 
one of the year's precious days. "God help me to use 
faithfully my little remnant of life." 

This prayer was answered. She kept her powers 
of mind and body to the last. She was ninety-one 
when she was asked to go to the State House in 
Boston to speak on the question of pure milk. Her 
address saved the day for reform. When, in 1910, 
her eyes saw the glory of the coming of the Lord, 
those who thought of the more than half a century 
she had given to the service of humanity realized 
that God had called to Himself one of the most 
efficient workers of the century. 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 



"Give to the winds thy fears, 

Hope, and be undismayed, 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears 

God shall lift up thy head. 
Through wave and cloud and storm 

He gently clears the way; 
Wait, then, his time; the darkest night 

Shall end in brightest day." 



LVII 
VICTORY THROUGH REMEMBRANCE 

GO back to the place where you lost the trail," 
an experienced forester said to a friend. 
"Stay there until, forgetting nervousness, 
you can begin once more to pick up the trail." 

The advice is good for those who become panic 
stricken over difficulties and obstacles of any kind. 
Do the problems of life seem to increase in per- 
plexity until all is confusion and unrest? Let the 
thoughts turn back until they find a resting-place 
in some event whose issue was peace, until it becomes 
possible to renew the struggle in the calm confidence 
that leads to victory. 

A successful man has said that for years he was 
"nervous, depressed, afflicted with hours of the 
blackest despondency." But there came a day 
when he had a battle royal with despondency and 
was victorious. Later, when the blues threatened 
his peace, he would think of that day when he found 
his place in the world after a year of bitter struggle 
and doubt. 

Another milestone was passed when he was given 
strength to stick to his purpose to be a dependable 
man. Thereafter, in his moments of confusion, 
he had two points in the past on which he could 
fix his thought and so gain poise for new conflict. 

A third time of crisis came because others were 
making more rapid progress than he; but he fixed 
his thoughts on the previous red-letter days in his 
life, and then he was able to think more clearly. 

205 



206 THE VICTORY L I F E 

Strength for a fourth great crisis, when for a time 
there was great danger that his life would tumble in 
ruins, was gained by taking time to fix his mind on 
the three great turning-points in his career. 

Thereafter, at the beginning of every year, when 
a new calendar was before him, that successful man 
would turn over the leaves and mark the anniver- 
saries of the four days that had meant so much to 
him. He knew that during the year he would have 
many moments of unrest and temptation, when he 
would need to think back to his crisis experiences 
and from them gain new strength and poise. 

Thus he was repeating the advice of the man of 
the forests, "Go back to the place where you lost 
the trail/' 

Every one has such corner-stone days. Perhaps 
the record will read something like this : On January 
25 the temptation to take a low view of duty was 
faced and conquered, in God's strength. On March 
14 everything seemed to conspire to wreck peace of 
mind, but God showed the way out and there was 
victory instead of disaster. On September 19 it 
seemed as if reputation was ruined, but the issue 
was glorious. On December 1 a friend died without 
whom it was feared a life at its best would be im- 
possible, yet that very day God opened the way to 
richer life. 

Let us mark days like these and look back to them 
not only at times when all is well, but also in mo- 
ments of turmoil. This is what the Psalmist did. 
In time of trouble he thought of the days when 
God had helped him. He said, 

"I remember the days of old, 
I meditate on all Thy doings, 
I muse on the works of Thy hands." 



LVIII 

INTO THE LIGHT 

ONE of the best loved men in one of our great 
cities was for many years a workman in a 
steel mill. Becoming interested in the stars, 
he made himself familiar with many of the wonders 
of the universe. Before long he was making optical 
instruments that were marvels of their kind. In 
this work he was always helped by his wife. 

As they studied the heavens together they came 
very near to Him who "laid the foundations of the 
earth, who stretched forth the heavens like a cur- 
tain." And when the wife died the husband caused 
the following words to be engraved above her tomb: 

" We have loved the stars too fondly 
To be fearful of the night." 

Not long ago the astronomer, who was then 
seventy-five years old, told in an interview some of 
the things he had learned about his friends, the 
stars, the nearest of which, Alpha Centauri, is so 
far away that if one could ride to it on a train going 
at the rate of a mile a minute, he would not reach 
his destination for forty-eight million years. A 
spider's thread from a cocoon reaching to Alpha 
Centauri would weigh five hundred tons. 

He speaks of the fact that the sun is one million 
three hundred thousand times as big as the earth, 
but he reminds us that perhaps a majority of the 
millions of stars that stud the heavens are larger 
than the sun. 

207 



208 THE VICTORY LIFE 

He tells other wonderful things about the sun. 
Its heat is so great that if we could build a column 
of ice fifteen miles in diameter from the earth to the 
moon, two hundred and thirty-eight thousand 
miles away, and then turn the sun's terrific heat 
on it, it would take just one second to convert all 
that ice to steam. 

The world, he says, seems to us like a pretty big 
place, but if we should toss in Lake Erie a cube one 
seven-thousandth of an inch in diameter, it would 
occupy the same relative space in that great inland 
sea that our earth occupies in the universe, terminat- 
ing with the nearest star and extending a similar 
distance from the sea in all directions. Such a 
universe is only an infinitesimal dot in the actual 
universe. 

Moreover, our earth in its revolutions on its own 
axis and its trip around the sun and outward into 
space makes a journey of nine hundred and eighty- 
four million miles a year; but the old clock never 
varies; there is never a jar nor a tremor, and we 
are back again on the hundredth of a second. 

Finally the astronomer reminds us that we do 
not have to go roving through space to find wonder- 
ful things. The lover of the beautiful, he says, 
finds in the colors of the rose the same light waves 
that stream from the stars. He calculates that 
during a single exposure of the camera lasting a 
tenth of a second, from forty to eighty million light 
waves hammer against the negative. 

Is it strange that the man whose eyes were open 
to these wonders does not fear the night? For he 
knows that He who made the universe and guides 
the stars in their courses gives as much attention 
to the guidance of the most humble of His children. 
He knows that He who makes the heavens radiant 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 209 

with the light of sun and moon and stars is waiting 
to lighten the darkness for every one so completely 
that there will be no hesitation in following Him 
into what some call eternal night, but others who 
have learned His ways know that it is eternal light. 
For in that day "there shall be night no more; 
and they need no light of lamp, neither light of 
sun; for the Lord God shall give them light." 



LIX 
FEAR CONQUERED 

WHAT is it that causes greatest dread to 
most people? What is their chief terror? 
What is their most unreasoning yet most 
persistent fear? Has it to do with life, or with 
what comes after the close of life as we know it? 

There is a fascinating little book by Mrs. Frances 
Hodgson Burnett, "The White People/' that dis- 
cusses this subject in a new way, that is, in story- 
form. 

The story is of a Scotch girl who lived much with 
books and with her thoughts. She had the reputa- 
tion of being one who saw. Some thought her 
peculiar because she saw things that were hidden 
from the eyes of others. But she was not peculiar. 
She lived close to nature, and she knew that "na- 
ture's a grand, rich, endless scroll with writings 
that seem new on it. They're not new. They 
were always written there. But they were not 
unrolled. Never a law broken, never a new law, 
only laws read with stronger eyes." One of the 
characters in the book asks, "How do we know that 
there does not lie in each of us a wholly natural but, 
so far, dormant power of sight — a power to see 
what has been called the Unseen through all the 
Ages whose sightlessness has called them Dark? 
Who knows when the shadows around us may 
begin to clear? Oh, we are a dull lot — we human 
beings — with a queer, obstinate conceit of our- 
selves." 

To the Scotch girl the knowledge she had gained 

210 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 211 

was simple and commonplace. She was surprised 
that all did not share it; she longed to pass it on. 
"I have heard other people say things," she said, 
" which made me feel that if they knew what I 
know it would seem to them as though some awe- 
some, heavy load they had always dragged about 
with them had fallen from their shoulders. To most 
people everything is so uncertain that if they could 
only see or hear and know something clear, they 
would drop upon their knees and give thanks." 

There are people who talk with bated breath of 
what they call the Fear — "that mysterious horror 
most people feel at the thought of passing out of 
the world they know into the one they don't know 
at all." They have the dread for themselves, and 
they have it for those whom they love. 

"If one had heard or seen one little thing, if one's 
mortal being could catch one gleam of light in the 
dark, the Fear would be gone forever," said one who 
feared. "If once we could be sure! There would 
be no Fear — there would be none!" 

By why can't we be sure? We have been told 
that death has been conquered. "0 grave, where 
is thy victory?" was the joyful cry of one who heard 
the message of the conquering Christ. Then why 
do so many act "as if death filled all the world — 
as if, when it happens, there is no life anywhere?" 
Why do so many of those, from whose side loved 
ones have been called away, become so absorbed in 
their anguish that they have no desire to think of 
those who are left behind? 

Mrs. Burnett's heroine would not, could not 
believe in death, at least as a sorrowful, impassable 
barrier that separates us from those we love and 
ushers them into fearful blackness and darkness. 
She had known what is called Death. But to her 



212 THE VICTORY LIFE 

it seemed a joyful thing. She had been told of her 
mother's going, when she was yet a babe. There 
was peace in the mother's face, she was told; there 
was joy. And always the daughter thought of 
peace and joy and her mother together — they 
could not be separated. In her lonely hours on the 
moor she seemed to see the men of ages gone by 
who had died in a righteous fight for their homes. 
But always she saw them with glad joy on their 
faces. Early one morning she saw on the moor a 
piper who was known for his dour ways. But he 
was "stepping proudly through the heather with 
his step like a stag on the hills/' His head was held 
high, and he looked at her with a glad, triumphant 
smile. An hour later she learned that the piper 
had died in the night. But she had seen the dour 
man glad. Is it any wonder she always thought of 
him^as glad? Later her lover died, and as she 
thought of him she seemed to see him. "And he 
stood — and smiled." 

Imaginary, do we say? Why do we say so? 
To her these things were more real than anything 
she had ever felt. And she was happy, for there 
was no Fear in her life. Death had no terrors for 
her, for death was only the gateway to joy. 

Those who know that death brings not sorrow, 
but joy, "drop the load of the ages — the black 
burden" that untold thousands persist in carrying. 
They do not need to carry it. It is an imaginary 
burden. For those who will enter the gate of 
Death hand in hand with the Conqueror of Death 
there is nothing but joy and life in store. And 
those who linger a little longer need only the keen 
sight that the Conqueror will give to them to be 
able to see and share the joy of those who have 
passed the Fear and found it the gateway to peace. 



LX 
CROSSING THE RIVER 

WHEN Bunyan wrote the "Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress " he pictured the death of the Christian 
as only the crossing of a river which sepa- 
rates this world from the Celestial City. Quaintly 
he said: 

"Betwixt them and the gate was a river; but 
there was no bridge to go over; the river was very 
deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river the 
pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that 
went with them said, 'You must go through or you 
cannot come at the gate/ 

"The pilgrims then began to inquire if there 
was no other way to the gate, to which they an- 
swered, 'Yes, but there have not any, save two, 
to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread 
that path since the foundation of the world, nor 
shall until the last trumpet shall sound/ The 
pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond 
in their minds, and they looked this way and that; 
no way could be found by them by which they might 
escape the river. Then they asked the men if the 
waters were all of a depth. They said, 'no/ yet they 
could not help them in that case; for, said they, 
'you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe 
in the King of the place/" 

The two pilgrims entered the river. One of them 
cried out that he was sinking, but his companions 
urged him to remember God's promises of help, 
and he would be able to keep afloat. When, at 

213 



214 THE VICTORY LIFE 

length, Christian, the man whose faith was weak, 
fixed his thoughts on God and His promises to help 
His people in the hour of death, all was well, and 
he crossed safely to the other shore. 

Christians have no fear when they remember the 
promise of God to be with them in life or in death. 
His word is, "When thou passest through the 
waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, 
they shall not overflow thee." "Neither shall the 
flames kindle upon thee, for I am Jehovah thy 
God." 

Belief in such promises as this and in Him who 
stands back of them makes men like General Gordon. 
During the Crimean War there was a sortie, and 
the Russians actually reached the English trench. 
Gordon stood on the parapet in great danger of his 
life, with nothing but his stick in his hand, en- 
couraging the soldiers to drive out the Russians. 
"Gordon," they cried, "come down! you'll be 
killed!" But he took no notice, and a soldier who 
was near said, "It's all right; 'e don't mind being 
killed, Vs one of those blessed Christians." 

Lord Roscommon, of England, in the moment 
of death, uttered with an energy of voice that 
expressed the most fervent devotion, the prayer: 

"My God, my Father and my Friend, 
Do not forsake me in the end/ 9 

And his prayer was answered. He died in perfect 
peace. 

Biographers of Joseph Addison, the great English 
essayist, have told how, when he was dying, he 
sent for his stepson, Lord Warwick, pressed his 
hand and said, "See in what peace a Christian can 
die." 

Not only men and women but even children have 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 215 

such triumphant faith in God. Of one little girl, 
friends who saw her at the last said, "All day a 
heavenly radiance seemed to grow over her face. 
Occasionally she would reach out her hand to the 
bedside and say, 'Mamma, are you there?' and when 
assured of it, she would lapse into silence again. 
At the last moment all physical weakness seemed to 
leave her. She sat up, raised both hands, and with 
her face beaming with divine light, exclaimed, 
'Oh! mamma, God is here, and everything is so 
beautiful here!'" 



LXI 
A POET'S ROAD TO VICTORY 

THAT man may be fortunate who has never 
known distress and conflict, although this 
is a question. Infinitely more fortunate is 
the man who has struggled through the doubt and 
despair into the calm, untroubled sea of unchanging 
peace. 

There is no better illustration of this than the 
experience of Alfred Tennyson. As a young man 
he knew the meaning of serenity. His faith in 
God was firm, but it had never been tested. And 
just because he had never felt a tremor on the quiet 
sea of his mental and spiritual life he was able to 
write, in one of his earlier poems : 

Why should we weep for those who die? 

They fall — their dust returns to dust; 
Their souls shall live eternally 

Within the mansions of the just. 

They die to live — they sink to rise y 
They leave this wretched mortal shore; 

But brighter suns and bluer skies 
Shall smile on them for evermore. 

During the days of college life his soul was knit 
to the soul of Arthur Hallam. He felt that he 
could not live without his friend; all his future 
seemed bound up in him. Then came the day 

216 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 217 

when Hallam died suddenly. Black despair and 
gloomy uncertainty laid hold on the poet. For the 
first time the questionings of that uncertain period 
in England's intellectual life laid hold of him. The 
ground was slipping from beneath his feet. He did 
not know what to do, what to think, what to plan. 
Life seemed done when it was just begun. "I was 
utterly miserable, a burden to my friends and to 
myself," were his words. Again and again he 
asked, "Is life worth living?" until he was ready to 
say: 

9 Twer e best at once to sink to peace, 
Like birds the charming serpent draws. 
To drop headforemost in the jaws 

Of vacant darkness and to cease. 

For more than fifty years he struggled with the 
doubt that threatened his peace. His poems re- 
vealed the changes in his thinking. Sometimes they 
were a ringing expression of faith; again they told of 
the storms that made him restless, that threatened 
to undo him. But always he held to his faith in 
God, and year by year he came nearer to the day 
when his peace was to be like a river, flowing calmly 
and serenely on. 

This fluctuation of hope and doubt is a large 
element in the helpfulness of his experience, for in 
much the same way we to-day are struggling through 
eclipsing doubt to faith. Sometimes all seems 
gloriously plain, and the stars are bright above. 
Again struggle seems useless, hopeless; the skies 
become like imprisoning brass. 

Glimpses of the poet's struggle for enduring peace 
are to be seen throughout his works. Always they 
show him striving to lay hold on God, or endeavoring 
to persuade himself of the truth of immortality. 



2l8 THE VICTORY LIFE 

His longing to rest in the assurance of immortality 
once led him to say: 

How sweet to have a common faith! 

To hold a common scorn of death! 

And at a burial to hear 

The creaking cords which wound and eat 

Into my human heart, whene'er 

Earth goes to earth, with grief, not fear, 

With hopeful grief, were passing sweet. 

Again he owned : 

/ often grow 
Tired of so much within our little life, 
Or of so little in our little life — 
Poor little life that toddles half an hour 
Crowned with a flower or two, and then an end. 

Once, in the poem "Despair," unrest was given 
expression thus: 

And the suns of the limitless universe sparkled and 

shone in the sky, 
Flashing with fires as of God, but we know that their 

light was a lie — 
Bright as with deathless hope — but, however they 

sparkled and shone, 
The dark little worlds running round them were worlds 

of woe like our own — 
No soul in the heaven above them, no soul on the earth 

below, 
A fiery scroll written over with lamentation arid woe. 

But the day arrived when he could say: 
Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest and the 

best, 
Let not all that saddens Nature blight thy hope or 

break thy rest, 



LOOKING BACK ON LIFE 219 

Quail not at the fiery mountain, at the shipwreck, 
or the rolling 
Thunder, or the rending earthquake, or the famine, 
or the pest. 

In the poem inspired by the death of his friend, 
"In Memoriam," he wrote:] 

We may lift from out of dust 
A voice as unto Him that hears, 
A cry above the conquered years 

To One that with us works, and trust, 

With faith that comes of self-control, 
The truths that never can be proved 
Until we close with all we loved, 

And all we flow from, soul on soul. 

And this was the cry he made: 

Strong Son of God, immortal love, 

Whom we, that have not seen Thy face, 
By faith, and faith alone, embrace, 

Believing where we cannot prove. 

Once he reassured himself thus : 

Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, 
And spirit with spirit can meet', 
Closer is He than breathing, and 

Nearer than hands and feet. 

More than thirty years after the death of his 
friend, which marked the beginning of his groping, 
he wrote of immortality, which on this occasion he 
called "the leading light of man": 

Gone forever! Ever? No — for since our dying race 

began, 
Ever, ever, and forever was the leading light of man. 



220 THE VICTORY LIFE 

Follow Light, and do the Right. — for man can half" 

control his doom — 
Till you find the deathless Angel seated in the vacant 

tomb. 

Twenty years were yet to pass before he wrote 
what was the supreme expression of the peace that 
came to him through tumult, the matchless poem, 
"Crossing the Bar/' of which his son said to him, 
"That is the crown of your life-work/' And the 
poet agreed, for later on he said to the son, "Mind 
you put 'Crossing the Bar' at the end of my poems." 

This, then, is the farewell message of the man 
who, after struggling for more than half a century 
to know the victory of peace, at length came to 
know repose through confident trust in his Pilot, 
Jesus Christ: 

Sunset and evening star. 

And one clear call for me! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar 

When I put out to sea. 

Twilight and evening bell,] 

And after that the dark! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When I embark; 

For, though from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crossed the bar. 









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